


The Silver Fobwatch

by imwiththeunicorn (tiatodd)



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Attempted Rape in Later Chapter, F/M, Lots of glitter, knockoff tetris, not by Jareth tho, poorly-conceived logic puzzles, random crossover cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-28 02:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 36,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6311158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiatodd/pseuds/imwiththeunicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>YES THIS ONE HAS A NAME</p><p>HEY I'M BACK BITCHES<br/>YES.<br/>ME.</p><p>Now, I know what you're thinking. "This is a Jareth x Reader, wtf is--where's Jareth?" Patience, my pets.<br/>Oh, I know you can exercise patience. You showed an exemplary capacity for it when you waited 45 chapters for Loki porn.</p><p>Um help because Mr. Jenson was not supposed to mean this much to me. :S I don't even--he just popped up out of NOWHERE, stole my heart and left in the first chapter. I don't even think he's gonna show up again, until the very very end.</p><p>So so tell me what you think so far. Speculate a little. I know some of you have been waiting for this for awhile</p><p>  <sub>DISCLAIMER: I obviously don't own <i>The Labyrinth</i> and any references you WILL see in this fanfiction. Fanfiction. FAN.Fiction. Just making it clear.</sub></p>
    </blockquote>





	1. The Missing Maker

**Author's Note:**

> YES THIS ONE HAS A NAME
> 
> HEY I'M BACK BITCHES  
> YES.  
> ME.
> 
> Now, I know what you're thinking. "This is a Jareth x Reader, wtf is--where's Jareth?" Patience, my pets.  
> Oh, I know you can exercise patience. You showed an exemplary capacity for it when you waited 45 chapters for Loki porn.
> 
> Um help because Mr. Jenson was not supposed to mean this much to me. :S I don't even--he just popped up out of NOWHERE, stole my heart and left in the first chapter. I don't even think he's gonna show up again, until the very very end.
> 
> So so tell me what you think so far. Speculate a little. I know some of you have been waiting for this for awhile
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I obviously don't own _The Labyrinth_ and any references you WILL see in this fanfiction. Fanfiction. FAN.Fiction. Just making it clear.

“Oh, before I go,” said Mr. Jenson as he donned his coat, reaching a hand into his pocket. “I thought this might interest you.”

His voice had dropped to a conspiratorial tone as he handed you a tarnished, silver half hunter fobwatch. With an excited gasp and delicate fingers you accepted it from him, looking hopefully at his excited brown eyes. You turned your attention back down to the watch, engraved with an elaborate Celtic design. Though the hands were visible, it was difficult to discern the time for the visible inner workings of the watch distracted your eyes. Upon clicking the device open, you were delighted to see the intricate cogs and wheels through a protective layer of quartz. Then, something strange about the Roman numerals caught your eye. The hour and minute hand were both frozen at XIII. “It has thirteen hours!”

“I know, isn’t it strange?” he said, looking over his shoulder at the door through which the missus was waiting, likely with impatience. “It doesn’t work, but I felt you would appreciate something odd like this.”

“Of course I do, it’s beautiful,” you said, gently tracing the etched design with a forefinger. “Thank you so much.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, you deserve it for taking care of Rachel tonight.” A flash of disappointment, perhaps even embarrassment crossed his face. “But there’s something else odd about this watch. I don’t know if you’d be interested, but…I’ve looked all over and inside it, with a magnifying glass, no less, and I can’t find any indication of the maker.”

“Hm. Well, maybe I’ll figure out the mystery of the thirteen-hour watch with no maker,” you joked. He laughed his pensive laugh, toying with his wedding band as he looked from you to the watch.

Mrs. Jenson slammed the door open, red curls flouncing and button nose flaring with frustration, shaped eyebrows drawn sternly over her black eyes. “Timothy, sometime today? We’re not paying this girl so you can sit around and chat while our dinner reservation gets passed down the waiting list!”

“Coming, dear,” he said with a soft chuckle, shaking his head at you. “If she ever gets off that computer, tell her Daddy loves her.”

“Will do, Mr. Jenson.”

“I’ve told you, call me Tim.”

You smiled as he left, weighing the watch in your hand. As you walked slowly down the hall, you thought over the issue of the creator-less watch. Perhaps there was a place he had overlooked. Then again, he was a clever man and one with a keen eye; you recalled one time he had described every single thing you’d been wearing on a five-second chance encounter at the supermarket. He did not easily overlook anything, and you doubted you could find anything he’d missed.

In any case, it was a really beautiful watch.

\--

It was in your nature to avoid babysitting kids like this. But you needed the money. You really, really needed the money.

“I’m bored,” whined the blond-haired little girl for the fifth time in twenty minutes, letting her pink DSI fall to the floor. “What can I do?”

You tried really hard to keep patient, tugging a hand down your face as you thought through a list of ideas you’d already tried. “You’re seven, aren’t you? That’s old enough to read. Go read something.”

“But I don’t know what I could read!”

Patience. Patience. “Come on,” you sighed, getting up from your cross-legged ponder session in the family’s nice leather chair.

To quell your annoyance at this unimaginative child as you led her to her father’s library, you reminded yourself why you needed to be here. It wasn’t just the money you needed; it was the trust. Mrs. Jenson tended not to like you very much, for reasons you couldn’t quite put a finger on; and while you normally wouldn’t care the opinion of some stuck-up interior designer who had very little to do with your life, you did care in this instance, because you liked Mr. Jenson. He was a really cool guy, and you really could talk for hours with him about practically anything. And if you wanted to keep that up, you would have to stay on Mrs. Jensen’s good side, and that meant keeping her spoiled little daughter happy.

Mr. Jenson’s library smelled like books. It didn’t smell like dusty or damaged books, but not quite like new ones; it had the slightly musty smell of well-loved books. It was a small room, about eight by ten feet, with full bookshelves on two opposite walls and a window with a cushioned ledge on the wall opposing the door. Beside the window was a well-worn leather armchair, cracked and faded on the one arm exposed to the sun beaming through the window. There was one heavy velvet curtain at the window and it was always tucked up to one side, dust settled on the folds to show it hadn’t been moved in some time.

“Alright,” you said, thrusting energy into the syllables as Rachel took a seat on the ledge and kicked her legs against the wall under it. Ignoring the sound of the child’s heels no doubt scuffing the mint green wall, you drew a finger along the spines of some thick romance novels. “Probably not.” Your eyes scanned the shelves until you found one with thin picture books and bright covers.

“Dr. Seuss,” you muttered. “Ooh, Charlotte’s Web…Huckleberry Finn…Ah, yes, Grimm’s Fairytales…” Your brow furrowed at the unmarked red spine of a leather-bound book. It bore no dust jacket, and as you slid it out from its spot, you suspected it might even be hand bound.

The leather was soft, scuffed around the edges, the front cover was bordered with two thin black lines about an inch from each other and acting as a track for ten blocky black roses.

“The Labyrinth.” You ran a finger over the embossed yellow words upon the surface, quirking an eyebrow. “I’ve never heard of this book.” With the care of holding a butterfly, you stroked the yellowed pages and pressed a page open, leafing briefly through the pages. You glanced back at the bored little girl, her chubby hands picking at a loose thread in the cushion. There’s no way she would be interested in this book.

But you would be.

“Here,” you said, coming to her with the first book of A Series of Unfortunate Events and The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.

She took Bad Beginnings and opened it just past the title page, scanning it with her nose turned up. You watched intently for her to take interest. “I don’t like it.”

“You’ve only just started—“

“It’s says things what are confusing,” she sneered, “just like Daddy. He says silly words that don’t make sense.”

“Well, he does have an impressive vocabulary,” you remarked fondly, smirking.

“I can’t read that one,” she said, pointing to Twain’s work. “Mommy said it says a bad word what rhymes with Tigger.”

“Well of course it does, it was written in—“ You huffed in exasperation. The only DVDs this little girl owned were things like High School Musical and movies about talking dogs who acted a lot more like humans than dogs. You doubted she even knew who Tigger was. “Do you even know who Tigger is?”

She shook her head. You turned back to the bookshelf, scanning with purpose this time. Your finger touched the spine of The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh as your eye snagged on a book on the shelf just above. “Oh he even has the Tao of Pooh. I’m impressed.”

You handed the book to the bored girl and opened it for her, coaxing her to read as you took your seat in Mr. Jenson’s chair. Upon opening the book in your hands, you noted the curving, twining design on the endpapers. It looked hand-drawn.

The title page simply read “The Labyrinth” and when you turned the page, it was blank. There was no publisher (as you could expect from a hand-bound book) and there was no year, and there was no author. Thoroughly intrigued, you began to read.

Tried to. And then, “This book is for babies. I don’t like it.”

“Well do you want to pick out one for yourself?” you offered, patiently.

“No. I don’t like reading. Daddy reads too much and it makes him weird,” she huffed, throwing the book down.

“Hey!” You immediately jammed your tongue into your cheek and dove for the book, leaving The Labyrinth on the chair behind you. “Look, you’ve dented the pages…augh. New idea. You don’t get to be in the library.”

“Good!” and she stomped out of the room as you stroked and replaced the abused book. You had only just picked up the red book when she yelled from down the hall, “So what can I do?”

You groaned. “What toys do you have?”

“Toys?” she asked, making an exaggerated effort to sound like she had never heard of the thing before.

“I know you have toys.”

She did have toys.

She had six-hundred and twenty-seven of them. “Daddy made me count them when I was bored once.”

“That’s brilliant,” you laughed to yourself. “Well why don’t you play with any of them?”

“I do!”

You raised an eyebrow.

“I _do!_ ”

“Well then, why don’t you play with them right now?”

The opening and closing of her mouth and wandering eyes indicated her carefully chosen but failed attempts at argument, and she sighed in defeat.


	2. A Surprise Summoning

You motioned to a corner of her room in which there was an open Barbie doll house with at least fifteen dolls all neatly lined up. Above that were two shelves, opposite each other on the walls, on which 30 Monster High dolls stood in their stands. “Look, you even have boy dolls. You can make them kiss or something.”  
  
She gasped and looked at you like “ooh, you’re in trouble.”  
  
“Oh please, you watch Nickelodeon, you practically know about sex already,” you wanted to say. But you didn’t. Instead, you said, “I’m sorry. Play with them how you want.”  
  
You waited until she was on her knees with two dolls in her hands before you left and took a seat in the living room just through the door. The Labyrinth was opened a third time, and you began to read.  
  
Then you heard, through the wall, in the voice of a girl imitating a man, “Dear, do you want to hear the new words I just learned? I am going to use them to confuse Rachel because she is stupid and doesn’t know that I just make all them up.”  
  
“Not now, honey,” replied another doll in a high-pitched voice. “I’m on a conifrience call and it’s very important. It is three o’clock, you should go to work before Rachel wakes up.”  
  
“Goodbye dear, I am going to make up more big words.”  
  
Is that what she thought her parents were like? You were sure Mr. Jenson didn’t use big words just to make his daughter feel stupid. Likely, he was trying to integrate them in her vocabulary. What was keeping him from failing?  
  
You heard her normal voice. “Mommy do you want to play with me?”  
  
“I can’t sweetie, I have to go do errints. Go read.”  
  
“But the words make me dizzy.”  
  
“Go watch TV, I love you, bye.”  
  
You shook your head and returned attention to your book. It seemed simple at first, but held the promise of a much greater story. Perhaps it was simply the mysterious construction of a book. Maybe it was just a girl’s typed diary, for whatever reason. It’s what it sounded like, at first. “’What no one knew is that the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and he had given her certain powers,’” you read aloud as Rachel’s dolls began to talk again, to keep yourself focused. And you weren’t even halfway down the page before she called out:  
  
“I’m hungry!”  
  
“Rachel, your mom told me she already gave you dinner,” you called back through the wall. You neglected to mention that Mrs. Jenson had also said Rachel could have a snack, but that was because you knew Mr. Jenson disapproved of his daughter eating too much at night; it kept her up.  
  
“But I’m starving!”  
  
You watched the chubby seven-year old glare at you from the door.  
  
“You’re not starving,” you said. “I don’t think you’re hungry, either. I think you’re just bored.”  
  
“I’m hungry!”  
  
“Alright, well…ugh…” Could she at least let you finish the page? “Look. Go play with your dolls some more and if you’re still hungry in ten minutes, I’ll make you something.”  
  
“Fine,” she huffed, stomping back into her room.  
  
You scanned the page for the right sentence. “’”Choose your right words,” the goblins said,’” you whispered to yourself. “’But she knew that if—‘”  
  
“HAS IT BEEN TEN MINUTES YET?”  
  
“No! I’ll tell you!”  
  
You clenched your teeth and red with vigor, easing into the setting as you flipped the page.  
  
“I’m _starving!_ ” wailed Rachel.  
  
“Ugh,” you groaned, clapping the book closed and putting it down. “Fine! You win. I’ll make you food.”  
  
“Yay!”  
  
“I wish the goblins would come and take _you_ away right now,” you muttered, getting together the ingredients for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And of course the jelly was not allowed to drip onto her pink plastic plate, and there could be no crust, and the sandwich had to be cut in four triangular sections, and each cut must be done with a clean knife so no jelly or peanut butter got on the edges. After an absurd number of minutes of sandwich preparation and several wipes of the knife on a wet towel, you brought the sandwich to her room.  
  
“Rachel?” You looked around, puzzled. “Rachel, sweetie, I have your sandwich.” You set the plate on her bed, making your way to the first floor bathroom. “Rachel, I made you a snack…” But the door was unlocked and the bathroom was dark and vacant. She couldn’t have gotten far, right? And you would have heard if she had gone upstairs or left the house. You tried the library, you tried her father’s study, you tried her parents’ room. You went back down to the kitchen, looked in the laundry room and then the garage. “Rachel, this isn’t funny, you’re starting to scare me.”  
  
When you made it back to her room, the lights were out. You huffed, willing your heart to slow down. “Very funny. You’re not going to scare me, Rachel. You should at least say ‘thank you’ for th—“  
  
“I am not the child,” said a low, accented male voice tinged with the slight roughness of a smoker. You startled, slapping your hand on the light switch. The light remained off, and you backed slowly toward the door, eyes searching the dark room.  
  
A shadow moved and you heard the door close behind you, and yelped. “Who are you?”  
  
“You don’t know?” the voice questioned with the most ominous air of nonchalance. “Have you really so short of a memory?”  
  
“I’ve never met you in my life,” you whispered, clearing your throat. “Who are you? Where’s Rachel?”  
  
You heard a snap and Rachel’s nightlight came on, providing just enough light for you to make out a humanoid figure with long, spiky hair and a high collar. His eyes remained shaded but the shadow clearly defined his angled nose and thin lips, all features seemingly carved from stone until he spoke again. “Who would you think I am?”  
  
You gasped at the sight of his pointed teeth. About to protest that you honestly did not know who he was and demand to have Rachel back, it suddenly hit you. “Are you…the Goblin King?”  
  
He flashed a wicked grin, stepping into the low light. He was even more terrifying with his sharp eyes visible, and you stood mesmerized for a moment upon noticing one of his pupils was blown nearly as big as the iris around it.  
  
“You…you took Rachel to your kingdom,” you elaborated, horror-stricken. “Is she a goblin? This is bad, oh this is bad…she isn’t even my kid!”  
  
“Be calm,” he commanded. “I am here to give you the reward for your payment.”  
  
“Payment?”  
  
“A child,” he said, “in exchange for your own world.” Out of thin air, he produced a bubble and held it out before your face. The shadow of an image flashed on its glassy surface before he pulled it back toward him and balanced it on one gloved finger. As he spoke, the sphere danced across all his fingertips, back and forth. “You can have anything you dream,” he said. “All the books in the world, your favorite games, the man you love. You can have a blank canvas on which to paint your existence. If I were you…I would accept.”  
  
This sounded far too good. “But what about Rachel? What will happen to her? What will Mr. Jenson think when he gets home and neither of us are here?”  
  
“Only Mr. Jenson?”  
  
“I meant both…”  
  
“Well, what does it matter to you?” he practically purred. “You wouldn’t have to worry about it in your world. You wouldn’t have to worry about the bored little brat, either. I will take her in as my own. She will have a better upbringing in my castle than this neglectful house.”  
  
“They don’t neglect her.”  
  
“Even you could tell she has trouble reading,” he said. “Neither of her parents could see that, nor her teachers.”  
  
“How do you know all of this?” you asked, startled.  
  
“The same way I knew you would summon my powers on this day,” he explained simply. “I would bore you with all the details of the Oraculum, but if I am to be honest I don’t fully understand it myself.”  
  
You shook your head. “Look…I’ll do anything to get her back. That was a huge mistake, I didn’t even believe you existed. I was being ironic.”  
  
He stayed silent for a long moment, not breathing, and then he let out an exasperated huff. “Why is it always this way…follow me,” he droned, turning and tossing the crystal ball at the window. You winced as you expected it to shatter the glass, but as it met the pane the dark scene of night faded into a golden landscape over which wound an impressive maze, a castle planted far near the back.  
  
Without even moving your feet, you found yourself on a dirt path that wound down toward the outer wall of the maze, and you looked up in wonder at the King of Goblins, whose blond hair and sparkling, night blue cape fluttered in a warm breeze. He stepped back, pointing at a clock that seemed to appear out of nowhere and hung on nothing. “If you can make it to the center of the labyrinth in thirteen hours, you may have the child back.”  
  
You looked from him to the labyrinth. It didn’t look very difficult from here, but perhaps you shouldn’t get your hopes up on solving it too quickly. “And if I don’t?”  
  
“If you fail to solve it,” he said, “you will return home without the child and face the consequences of your actions. If you give up before the thirteen hours, you may claim the world I have promised to you.”  
  
You nodded. “Good to know. And my time starts?”  
  
“A minute ago.”  
  
You flashed him a determined glare, and set off down the path. Today was not a day to waste time.  
  
“Before you start, I feel it’s only fair to warn you,” he called, “about the stairs.”  
  
You looked back, expecting some elaboration on this warning, but he was gone.


	3. The Wandering Walls

A tiny whisp of panic leaked into your system when after about ten minutes of walking along the wall, you could find no opening to the labyrinth. If the King had put you at the complete opposite end from the opening, you felt you had the right to murder him.

Your breathing quickened and you placed both hands on the wall, giving the base of it a good kick, but not hard enough to hurt your toes. Taking a deep breath, you shook your head—and in that moment, you swore you could see something.

You shook your head again and a tall set of doors flashed into focus. When you stopped, you felt the wall in front of you, and only then did you notice it didn’t feel like stone; it felt like old, splintered, painted wood. Squinting your eyes revealed the hazy outline of a doorknob. The cold metal against your fingers startled you and you felt at the knob until you could get a grip on it, and then you fumbled for the other. First, you tried pulling, which proved no result, and then you pushed, at the same time instinctively kicking your foot right in the seam of the invisible doors.

You nearly lost balance as the momentum of the heavy doors thrust you into a narrow hall. When you looked back, you could see the doors as they closed, but once they did they vanished back into illusion. “How very curious.”

There was nothing but hallway. The walls rose high above your head and stretched on for what seemed like miles. Weren’t there turns? Was there another door for entry? You squinted, looking around, but there was no other door, at least under the same guise. Down past your feet the packed earth was strewn with glitter. It spread over the walls, too; a fair _film_ of glitter. A sheen of fine shimmering dust covered everything as well, for good measure. You looked down at your well-kept purple jeans, which you had picked out today because purple was Mr. Jenson’s favorite color. If one fleck of glitter got on these things, you would be very, very cross.

That was enough time wasted taking in the scenery. Since you were facing this way, you guessed you’d go left. There was just this nagging feeling in the back of your mind to not turn right.

You had taken off at a slow jog, slowing down about five minutes in when you realized everything looked pretty much the same. You weren’t about to bother looking for another door; who knew how long that would take? So instead, your eyes settled on a twisted, sturdy-looking vine that cut across the path and snaked up one wall. Examining for footholds as you drew close, you wedged the left toe of your Converse into it and groped at a diverging vine above your head. It wasn’t terribly far to the top of the wall, but still a dizzy feeling stole over you, and you climbed a bit slower than you had wished.

The vine lost its sturdiness about a half foot from the top, so you held your breath and planted your palms on the ledge and hoisted yourself up. As you did, something in your jacket pocket grinded against the edge, and you heard a small _tink, tink_ when you turned to sit. Looking down, you saw that the watch had fallen, and you picked it up by the chain which had tangled in the vine.

It was working, to your astonishment, when you clicked it open. It was now ten past thirteen.

Ten past thirteen.

You supposed you had been navigating the labyrinth for ten minutes now. Whether this was a coincidence or not, it was reassuring to be able to log your own time. You stood to your feet and pocketed the treasure, holding your arms out for balance as you took a few careful steps along the three-foot-wide stone wall. It looked like a maze again, from here. Your eyes wandered down your higher path, and soon you found a break in the wall. “Oh…it probably blends in with the rest of it.” You couldn’t understand why you hadn’t been looking harder before. Then again, perhaps it was masked with another illusion.

The castle was a ways out, but you figured you could get there in under thirteen hours, assuming you could come up with a better method than this any time soon. Focusing on your feet, you noticed, once in a while, a milky orb protruding near the top of the walls. So far, they had all been to your left.

As you continued, you saw a dead end on your right, joining your wall to the next. You thought about this. The left path clearly continued on, and you needed to get there, because there was a wide gap in your wall where it led to the dead end. When you looked ahead, you saw that the left path branched off a second time to the right to a winding path that went on for a while. You could reach it by walking along the wall of your dead end. “Easy,” you hummed optimistically, diverging down the wall of the dead end. But the moment you reached your destination path, the wall ahead of you fell away, leaving a huge gap, and rendering you stranded on a disconnected wall. You watched in amazement as the maze changed before your eyes, bits moving here and there as you looked out over the scape, and a feeling of discouragement filled you.

“Maybe I should have read more of that book,” you muttered, looking down. You glared upward at nothing and then at the castle, startled when your look was responded to with a sourceless voice.

“You’re cheating,” it said. “Cheaters never prosper.”

“I wasn’t aware this was some dumb kids show with clichéd morals,” you snapped as you sat, heeling for a foothold in the wall. “You have a nice voice, though, I’ll give you that.”

“Oi, you,” another voice said, though for the moment your mind passed it off as a trick of the ears, for in comparison it was so quiet. “You, tall person! I’m down ‘ere!”

You landed jarringly on your feet and looked around, and saw a small blue caterpillar poking its head out of a crack in the wall. You had read enough Alice in Wonderland to know where this was going.

“Oh, uh…no thank you, not stopping for a smoke, I have somewhere to be,” you said, heading down to the right.

“Don’t go that way!” the creature squeaked.

You turned around. “Why not?”

“Don’t go that way,” he repeated, “it’s dangerous! You should come inside and have a nice cup ‘a tea.”

As tempting as that sounded…“Why is it dangerous to go this way?” you asked. “So far, this whole place seems dangerous.”

“I’m not dangerous,” he assured. “I’m just a worm. But where you’re headed is dangerous, you don’t want to go that way.”

“Why is it dangerous?”

“It’s full ‘a traps!” he explained. “Loads of ‘em! If you go on to yer left, you’ll have a much easier time.”

“Why is it full of traps?” you asked.

“Wot? Why, because that’s the way to the castle of the vicious Goblin King!”

Thought so. “Oh, thank you so much for your help,” you said earnestly, giving the worm a light pat on the head. “I’m actually looking for the castle, so thank you.”

“Wot? D’ye have a deathwish, missie? Oi! Look at me when I’m talkin’ to ye!”

You took out the watch and checked it. Barely seven minutes had passed, but you set a goal for yourself to feel like you had gotten somewhere by a half-hour in. The wall before you gave you a different feeling now that you knew it could change on a whim, and you were not about to let yourself get trapped in here without knowing it.

Time to muscle up and become a climber. Climb the metaphorical Echeladder to success. Ascend.

You are the climber. It’s you.

You grabbed hold of a convenient vine, sturdy like the one at the beginning of your trek, and scaled it quickly, maneuvering down the other side of the wall as soon as you had made it to the top. There was no other vine in sight for the moment so you ran down to the next turn, soon finding a hall entirely covered in very healthy ivy-like plants. They were pretty, but they also served as a wonderful ladder. Once at the top of the next wall, you got your bearings, and turned yourself in the direction of the castle. It still wasn’t out of the question to find a better system than this, but you figured it would come to you eventually, and stopping to think about it would only eat away at your precious time.

\--

“This is no good,” the Goblin King muttered. “She’s far too clever. She’s navigating this labyrinth faster than I can think to reconstruct it!”

“She’s smart like my daddy,” Rachel sighed, brushing the whiskers of a patient goblin. “She’ll find me.”

Jareth sneered at the little girl. “Though she isn’t as wise. She is still young. I have time on my side. I have _thousands_ of years on my side.”

Rachel wrinkled her nose. “How old are you?”

“Old enough to outwit a girl.”

Rachel nodded, continuing her focus on the goblin before her. “Do you do this kind of thing a lot?”

“I’ve done it before, yes.”

“Are they always girls about her age?”

“Sometimes younger,” he said impatiently. “What is the point of this?”

“Do you always win?”

The King stayed silent.

“Wow,” the little girl exclaimed innocently. “You’ve even had girls dumber than her down here, and they beat you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I'm posting this  
> Yes I do  
> I'm a comment whore that's why
> 
> I was really gonna write at least half of this and then start posting in moderation, but it's...it's kind of an addiction.
> 
>  **Also** great job for catching the references in the last chapter, yes the **Oraculum** was an allusion to Tim Burton's _Alice in Wonderland_  
>  and then of course there was the warning about the Stairs, Bro.  
> ehehe I love me some Homestucks.
> 
> SO YEAH enjoy this chapter and um, if you catch more references please tell me because I have forgotten.   
> Also let's see how long I can keep this alliteration up. I love alliteration it's fucking sexy.


	4. A Pseudo Paradox

“But,” you posed to the twin guards, “how do I know that _you’re_ not the liar, and therefore your entire statement is false? How do I know you wouldn’t both lie to me?”

“Wh—“ The furry-muzzled guard in blue turned to his puzzled counterpart, then looked at you and sternly cleared his throat. “We can’t answer that!”

“You could be lying about that, too,” you said, voice calm and arms folded. “I’m not sure I wanna take this gamble.”

“Well you can’t go any other way!”

You sighed, and looked at one of them to the other, and then down at your tired feet. You had stopped climbing walls on account of how very tired your arms had become from nearly an hour of it. But you were boxed into one part of the maze with no way out save through either one of these doors or climbing one of the walls.

“Good day to you, sirs,” you said, taking hold of a fairly thin vine and kicking a loose brick in a bit for a foothold. “And by good day, I mean it is a good day whether you want it or not. Note that I leave this place with a smile on my face and a tip of the proverbial hat, whilst you stay good as bolted to the wall.”

With a smirk toward their protesting, stuttering faces, you scaled the wall, and were just about to launch down to the other side when your heart skittered and you nearly fell backward.

Down below you was a pit descending down so far, you couldn’t even see the bottom.

“I suppose I deserved that,” you muttered.

“Of course you did, cheater,” the Goblin King’s voice snarled from behind you. Upon turning, you saw the wall disappear just behind his leather-booted feet as His Furious Highness folded his very poofy-sleeved arms over a tight fitting leather vest. Or man corset. You weren’t quite sure what he was going for. You might have almost felt intimidated, had his face not reminded you of a vengeful child whose toy had just been taken by an authority figure.

“It’s not cheating,” you said, keeping your spine straight and your chin high. “It’s called being clever. Like card counting. It isn’t illegal, only frowned upon, and only because people are jealous of mad intellectual skill.”

“Intellectual. A bloody _monkey_ can climb a wall,” he seethed. “You are proving to be a little infuriating. Why do you want to take all the fun out of this?”

“Because it isn’t fun for me,” you said. “I’m getting paid good money to babysit and all, but this was not in the job description. And before you say this was my fault, you tricked me. I didn’t ever ask you to exist.” You looked back, and the wall on that side still existed. You took a couple steps, though you knew what would happen next.

Enough wall crumbled away for you not to be able to jump it.

“Are you really going to make this so difficult?” He sighed, and you heard a flashing sound like one of those strobe fireworks as before your eyes, glass shards and barbs grew up out of the tops of the walls. “How trashy. Do you see what you make me do?”

You simply glared back at him, annoyed, and carefully descended from your place on the wall back into the section with the doors. “How do you even know where I am?”

He ignored the question, suddenly appearing beside you. “Now of course, if you try anything else—“

“Are you like a stalker or something?”

Ignored. “I might have to bind those sturdy legs of yours.” He practically purred the words, lips so close to your ear, which perked up involuntarily. Moving from one side to your other, he drew a finger up the side of your thigh, making you shiver. Oh. “It would be such a shame. But if necessary, I will make this game _much_ harder for you.” An intrusive gloved hand brushed back some hair away from your ear and you could almost feel his lips. “Of course, if you would take up my offer…”

Nope, he wasn’t gonna play that way. “I bet it’s that globe thing.”

“What?”

One of those glass half-spheres was nestled in the corner of the “room” in which you were trapped. Shifting away from him, you toed off a shoe and flung it at the curious object, and it shattered, leaving a whisp of white powdery essence to evaporate into the air.

“Hey!” he shouted, completely losing any cool he had. You watched him, amused, ad he tried to regain his regal composure. “To ensure the safe performance of all authorized activities, please do not destroy vital monitoring apparatus. You impetuous child.”

“Well you put me on a time limit in a puzzle game. You can bet I’ll be impetuous.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t try to be cute. If you don’t play fair, I might not play fair, either.”

“You said to make it to the center. In my eyes, I am not cheating.”

But he had already vanished, leaving a cloud of glitter and smoke in his wake, which got all up in your purple pants.  
“ _Not cool,_ Goblin jerk!”

“So?” said one of the guards, startling you back to your task. “Which one of us?”

You thought. “While it’s possible you might both lead to certain death…or both to safety, or you really are telling the truth and one of you is the liar…let’s think about this. Red is usually a warning, and blue generally promotes a calming feeling…”

“You’re supposed to ask a question!”

“Shh,” you snapped. “Now, considering this is a puzzle maze, Goblin Jerk could have chosen these colors intentionally. Simple case of reverse psychology. Easy. Hey, rojo, open up.”

“Eh?” asked both the doormen, obviously perplexed.

“Rojo. Red. Rouge.” You snapped your fingers. “Chop chop, I’m on a tight schedule.”

The red guard differed to his partner, who shrugged, and the door you chose swung open.

Perhaps, you only thought after stepping across the threshold, it would have been wise to at least pose a question on the off-chance their tale had been true, just for safe assurance. So you stepped carefully, looking for possible signs in the walls, checking the floor for diamond shapes; as if you really believed the King would give such a warning of traps or hazards. You tip-toed carefully, not certain what good that would do, and soon the hall into which the door had opened led back into the labyrinth, no harm done. “Well that was a humongous waste of time.”

But now, which way to turn? There were three directions from which you could choose, and you began quickly reasoning with yourself, trying to deduce which path might lead to the labyrinth; but this place was so unpredictable and defied normal laws of physics, so Sherlocking your way out was really not a reliable option. You let off a frustrated groan and kicked at a stone, picking it up to throw it at a crystal half-sphere at the entrance to one of the paths on impulse.

“Hey!” cried the King’s outraged, disembodied voice. “What’ve I told you about that? Why are you even breaking them? What purpose does it serve you?”

“Well, obviously,” you growled, formulating a theory in your mind. “They’re essential to you keeping me from solving this maze. Therefore, my smashing them actually does benefit me, even if I can’t see how. Now, from your words earlier, I know you’re using them to monitor me. So they’re like cameras, in a way. And if I break them, you can’t see me. And I am going to win.” And, you thought, they might act as a nice breadcrumb trail, assuming they were only put in places that lead down the right paths. So you took that one, careful not to step on the broken shards, and continued with a smug smile.

This quickly disappeared as suddenly as did the ground beneath you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to stop, this is not okay. I need to pace myself. Make me pace myself.
> 
> Any more references? Keep lookin', guys, I'm sure there's one in here.  
> OH I know one actually, ehehe. There are two things I'm going to be just constantly referencing throughout this story, who can guess which ones?


	5. The Corkscrewed Corridor

"Hello?" you called, coughing into a dust cloud. "Is this part of the labyrinth?"

The room, more of a dirt cave, was dark, tank and utterly deserted, dusted with cobwebs and...more glitter.

"Hello?" It couldn’t have been a very long fall, because you did ache but clearly nothing was broken or sprained.

The only visible way out was back up through that hole in the ceiling, and you could see no way up. There was no ladder, no vine, not a piece of furniture or scrap wood or rope, and you began to wonder where videogames got the idea that random dirt caves _always_ had some sort of primitive manmade tool for escaping.

But the watch was still running; that had to mean something. Tentatively, you bounced up and down on the ground, finding it was no more than compacted earth. As you took your steps to the wall, you listened and felt for creak or bow but sensed none, beginning to wrap on the dirt wall. Nothing, nothing, nothing--

_Tk tk tk._ Wood. You brushed the dirt away sideways to avoid splinters, kicking the base of the door to shake off more. There was a smooth spot under your hand as you brushed it across the door, and it was soon revealed to be a sign.

"Mirage Emergency Shut Down and Tea Dispensary."

Yeah right, you thought. It was definitely a trap, but it wasn't as though you had a plethora of options. But as you tucked your fingers under the edge, a trickle of water caught your attention and dampened the floor. You continued to pull, though cautiously. And just as it threatened to give, you felt a shock to your stomach that made you jump back.

"Ah!"

Confused, you took the watch out of your jacket pocket, assuming it was the source, and without being prompted--it opened. But that wasn't the strangest part. It opened against the hinge.

You gazed at it, at first puzzled, and then realized it must be an illusion. But was it a meaningful illusion?

You pondered on it for a moment, and as though driven partially by instinct, your fingers moved themselves under the other side of the door. It gave way on that side, and in you were led to a conical room made of earth.

Not quite cone-shaped. It was oblong. Oblong and an upside-down cone, with a spiral stone staircase built from the wall, climbing all the way to the top. It started out narrow, the room about five feet around on the ground.

“What the—“

“Oh. It’s you,” droned the voice of the King. “I do hope the door leading to the waters of Lethe didn’t give you a start. You’ve still got your memory in tact, haven’t you?”

“Can I please look at the person to whom I am speaking?” you commanded, planting your hands firmly on your hips. Before your eyes there suddenly dangled a pair of booted feet as the King perched on the spiral stairs. He smirked down at you, his sudden serenity putting you off of your ease.

“I am impressed, to tell the truth,” he cooed, dancing a crystal ball between his fingers. “I had a little talk with the _child_ you’re supposed to be caring for, and she indirectly gave me some valuable advice.”

“Oh? And what was that?”

“To stop insulting your intelligence,” he explained, “and start playing this game in a way that will interest you.”

His voice came from behind you now, and it took your eyes a moment to catch up as you looked over your shoulder at him. One of his arms snaked around your shoulders as he pulled you back into his grip, looking down broodingly into your eyes.

“Watch carefully,” he whispered, casting the crystal ball forward with as little effort as blowing on a bubble. It broke in the center of the room and a single, tiny white daisy sprung up from the bricks. You broke your attention away from his proximity, with surprising difficulty, and watched the stairs as seemingly random steps vanished momentarily. Within a second, they came back.

You had been particularly puzzled by the start of the stairs. The first was sunk into the floor, twice as wide as the rest. The next two steps up had vanished as well, but it was an easy step to the fourth. Beyond that, the spacing slowed until you hadn’t detected any missing steps toward the top.

“What—“

“Good luck.” You heard a crack, and he was gone, leaving you with a shiver.

There was only one way to start, puzzled as you were, so you braced your hands on the fourth step and clambered up awkwardly. You recalled the next step having vanished, so leaning against the dirt wall, you took a cautious step onto the sixth.

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until you exhausted a relieved sigh. “Okay. Alright. Now the next step…was still here, I think,” you muttered to yourself. At the next step your memory proved to side with you. “The first three steps are missing…and then it’s one safe step…ah!” The next step must not be safe, you reasoned, for there had been two safe steps since the last missing one. “This is easy, I just have to keep in mind what number step I’m on.”

You looked back and counted as you stepped over the eighth step. Nine, ten, eleven. “And I skip twelve.”

One foot onto the thirteenth step, you were confident, even celebratory in your discovery. But as your second foot rested on that step, it gave from under you and you fell right through. “AH!”

It took you a moment to figure what had happened, but you were standing on the bottom step, the wider one which was sunk into the floor. Certain you hadn’t miscounted, your brow tightened in confusion, watching as the steps fazed out again and then returned. On a quick count, you noted that the thirteenth, not the twelfth, was a false step. That broke your pattern.

“One safe step, then two safe steps, then four,” you mumbled, wracking your brain for any pattern you had seen that coincided. “It doubles every time.”

So you tried again. You stepped onto the twelfth stair and passed the thirteenth, counting up eight steps, and judged that the twenty-first step would be your last safe one. And once you reached it, you realized that yet again, your pattern had been an erroneous one.

The teleport from this step to the first made your head spin. “Augh…why does it keep happening?” you moaned. “Alright. The missing ones are this first one…two, three, five, eight, thirteen, twenty-one—“

That seemed so vaguely familiar to you but you could not place it for your life. And then you looked at the white daisy in the middle. And then you looked up into the seemingly disproportional spiral.

These symbols had some correlation; you just knew it.

And then a shape moved, very slightly, out of the corner of your eye, and you watched the spiraled shell of a snail as it left its silky trail on the dirt wall. You clapped your hands in revelation. “Fibonacci sequence!”

You tested it out. Five plus eight is thirteen. Thirteen plus eight, twenty-one. And so the next one…“Thirty-four.” Carefully controlling your excitement so as not to miscount, you dashed up the stairs to the thirty-third, and held your breath as you skipped the next. It was still only a theory, however, so you approached the fifty-fifth stair with caution, after you had made the calculation.

“Hah! All those times I thought math wouldn’t help me in real life.” And it was a really bad idea to have said that out loud because you had just lost count. “Crap.”

You were at least seventy stairs up, but you weren’t sure exactly how many, and every time you tried to count you couldn’t tell where one stair started and the next ended. This was bad.

You shook your head, going on the last number that had popped into your head. Eighty-eight. Which meant the next must be eighty-nine, so you skipped it, and—“AURGH!” you found yourself back at the beginning, winded and very dizzy. “This is stupid!”

You glared at everything, anger boiling in your veins, and checked your watch. You had only been at this for ten minutes, but considering you were already back at the bottom and the staircase was a good couple _thousand flipping steps,_ this puzzle would be the death of you.

Deep breath. There had to be a shortcut. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t thought of that before; you had climbed the walls, punched a hole in the King’s attempt at a paradoxical puzzle, and noticed his careless trail of camera-like crystal balls leading you right to the castle. The place was riddled with shortcuts for anyone with a tiny sliver of wit, and you were beginning to feel quite the genius.

You just needed to find the shortcut here.

Give it a moment.

The step you were standing on could very well be a two-sided portal. If you stepped through it here…where would you end up?

You took a step back, out onto the floor, and then jumped onto the wide step. In a flash and tizzy, you found yourself groping the wall for balance and looking down into a dark, endless, spiraling staircase. Your heart raced with hope and when you looked ahead of you, there was a stone-arched exit.

Fist-pump into the air in victorious jubilation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it isn't actually a corridor but "spiral staircase" is such an EXHAUSTING cliche and does not at all make for an impressive title. Advertising is about standing out.
> 
> I figured enough days have passed for me to put up another fic :3 you're all getting thirsty for it right about now, aren't you? Especially after like two or three straight days. It was two, right? I dunno. I'm not about "posting schedules" those are tedious.
> 
> So yeah this is where I try to invent a puzzle of my own. And this is why Valve is in charge of the Portal test chambers and not me >.<  
> And this is why Jim Henson made the Labyrinth and not me >.<  
> ^ Hey cool that counts as a disclaimer BOOYAH.
> 
> That's all there really is to say on the matter.


	6. The Building Blocks

“You know—“

“AH!”

The King, leaned preponderantly against a sparkling stone wall as once again you found yourself back in the labyrinth, chuckled heartily at your anger-tinged surprise.

“I’ve never had a player as intelligent as you,” he said, eyes locked on you and hips swishing as he slowly advanced. “I can’t figure whether it is refreshing or disconcerting.”

“What’s disconcerting is falling twelve feet into a dirt deathtrap, you royal pr—“

A gloved forefinger stopped your lips, the King’s other hand stopping the fist you had raised toward him “It wouldn’t have killed you. And it didn’t.”

He removed his fingers but before you spoke, he spoke again.

“I did warn you about the stairs. I told you.”

This only served to provoke your rage. “Stairs! You sent me into a shifting stone maze with hidden death traps and weird talking animals, and you warned me about _stairs!_ ”

“It was not a death trap, it was an oubliette.”

“Screw you and your pointless French terminology!”

He looked at you with an eyebrow raised and a smug smile. Seeing you were puzzled, his eyes flickered over your shoulder and you realized your fingers were still entwined with his. With a blush and a grunt you let go, remaining silent. But your hand immediately pined for the warmth of his.

Ignore.

“Well what next, Your Royal Rudeness? I still need to reach your castle,” you grumbled.

The King sighed, looking rejected. “You can call me Jareth.”

“Excuse me?”

“Jareth. It’s my name.”

“Why should I care?” you sneered. “I should call you ‘kidnapper.’ Maybe ‘pervert.’ But most likely, I will address you as ‘jerk,’ because that pretty much sums you up. A jerk with a pretty face.”

He chuckled, fairly gazing at you in adoration. While you were insulting him. “But if you are to stay here with me, to be the queen of your own world, perhaps you should call me by my rightful name.”  
“Whoa, no one said anything about queen! Where did this come from?”

“Ah, right. Fine print,” he explained sheepishly. “You do get whatever you want, yes; essentially a world of your own. You get to pull the strings and fiddle with the illusions…but you must be my queen.”

Despite how sick it made you feel, the proposition gave you a startlingly pleasant feeling. Your cheeks heated up and your heart began to race, and you briefly entertained the sick fantasy of actually becoming Jareth’s queen, staying with him in this twisted realm. But you shook the thought away, glared at him, and started back through the labyrinth just to get away.

“You still have eleven hours and fifty minutes to consider,” he called, and you felt a rush of wind accompanied by a puff of glitter.

Had you already been in here that long? Upon consulting the watch, you supposed you had. You began brisk-walking blindly through the maze, nearly forgetting to check for the crystal balls.

The walls rose higher and higher around you, giving you a dash of claustrophobia with some insignificance mixed in. Suddenly, you felt as small as the blue worm. Even the bricks of the walls were positively monstrous.

You came to a dead end, and when you turned around to backtrack, you found yourself boxed in. again. Turning back around, you glared at the wall in front of you and willed it to move. You could try scaling it, but there were no vines.

About three feet up, there was a ledge marking a rectangular indentation in the wall that took up most of it with the exception of a three-foot border, which didn’t cover the top. Curious, you hoisted yourself up onto the ledge and pushed at the bricks, but they showed no sign of giving. When you looked back, you saw, to your astonishment, a pile of bricks by the far wall.

You supposed you could use them as steps…

In the same instant, you began climbing off the ledge and something obnoxious and fluttery caught you right in the face. You nearly fell backward, flailing and blowing at the thing in your face. It dropped very suddenly to the ground and your heart thundered from the almost-fall as you slid off the ledge to investigate.

It was a tiny, humanoid creature with delicate wings. “I don’t believe it…”

You reached out to pick the thing up, but as soon as your finger came into its reach, it seized you with two tiny hands and dug its small, needle-like teeth into your fingertip.

“Ow!” Glaring, you kicked dust over the fairy, not even sorry to hear her delicate cough. “You deserved it!”

The bricks were cut into odd shapes; some jagged, some t-shaped, cross-shaped, l-shaped, and some just simply squares. This looked vaguely familiar.

None of the bricks were very heavy, which you supposed you could attribute to the magic and general nonsense of the entire maze. In any case, it made them easy to transport, and so you took one block about two square feet and placed it on the ledge. When you traveled back over to the pile, and then looked up at the towering wall, you realized this would take a ridiculous amount of time and there was no way you would be able to do this.

“Come on, shortcut, please,” you muttered, looking around for something to help you. But, as you had noted earlier, there were no vines. There were no loose bricks anywhere for you to scale. You did a quick walk around the walls, pushing and peeking, but all was stable and connected. “This is ridiculous.”

Another fairy flitted up into your grill.

“Will you knock it off!” You swatted her away but she flew right back at you, arms folded and tongue out. “What do you want, anyway?”

This one had soft blue eyes and a fairly plump form, and she glared at you crossly, before looking up at the top of the wall.

“What?”

She flew up and away instantly, and before you could get mad, she hit some invisible barrier and came tumbling back down. You barely caught her before she collided with the ground.

“You can’t get out of here?”

She shook her head, incidentally shaking loose some fine golden glitter.

“Hey, you’re a fairy,” you stated, and she gave you a smart-alec look. “Yes, whatever. You…can use magic, right? To make people fly? To make things fly?”

The fairy nodded, scratching her tiny head.

“Do you think you can make these blocks fly?”

She looked behind you at the blocks, then back at the wall, and then she pointed at the base of it, where still lied the fairy you had knocked down earlier. She pointed hard and glared at you.

“I’m sorry about that…” You walked over and picked up the other one, gently blowing dirt off her wings. She reached out to bite your thumb but you moved the digit quickly. “Hey. I’m sorry, okay? I’m trying to get out of here, and I think that’s what you’re trying to do, too. Do you think we can collaborate?”

She pondered the gesture, and the other fairy spoke with her in a voice so high and small it almost sounded like inaudible tinkling. Soon, the thinner fairy nodded, and you carried them both back to the pile of bricks.

“Let’s start with that one.”

You pointed, and to your astonishment, the brick seemed to levitate of its own accord, surrounded by tiny flecks of gold.

The process went quickly. You would instruct for them to bring a block and they would bring it, you would tell them where to put it so that it would all fit into a staircase design. Once you had got to the top of your first set of steps, you had them build another on the other side, and within fifteen minutes you had made it to the top. The fairies’ bodies sagged tiredly, but once they looked down, they were overjoyed.

Perched atop the wall, you looked down the other side to a sturdy flight of stairs leading back down into the labyrinth. “Yes!”

They climbed down a couple steps and flew off without so much as a thank you, but you didn’t care much, descending yourself. But as you set foot on the third-to-last step, it vanished and you fell with a thud into a soft blue patch of grass.

\--

“She’s far too clever,” Jareth muttered.

“Well it wasn’t that hard,” said Rachel, laying boredly on her back. “She plays a game what’s like that sometimes. She tried to get me to play but I didn’t get it. Daddy gets it, though.”

“Well your _daddy_ sounds like an annoyingly clever fellow.”

“He is.” She sighed. “But what’s the thing what’s most annoying is that he talks about her like she’s mommy sometimes.”

“Her?”

“My babysitter.”

Jareth eyed the girl curiously. “You’re awfully observant.”

“What’s that means?”

The king silently returned to looking into the crystal ball. “And does she fancy your father?” he asked, holding three fingers to his lips in ponder.

Rachel sighed. “I dunno. Sometimes I think so.”

“Well perhaps,” he said, “I can test this theory. Time for some dreaming, perhaps.”


	7. The Cackling Canine

You came-to to the warm, wet tongue of a lapping dog, all over your face, ear, neck. “Augh—no! Stop!” Sitting up, you shoed the furry creature away. It was short with long, white hair, and pointed ears, like a wolf’s. Its snout was pointed and it barked relentlessly.

“Ah, stop!” Your head throbbed and you picked up a convenient pebble, throwing it far off into the strange new dark place. The tiny dog ceased barking and chased after it as quickly as a squirrel skittering up a tree.

“Ay, s’you again,” a tiny voice nearly shouted in your ear. “Sure took a long fall, ya did.”

“Ugh, I know…it keeps happening,” you groaned, rubbing your head where it hurt and blinking into the dim space. Above you was seemingly nothing but a solid rock cave, the ceiling of which was several meters above the ground. “I’m beginning to dislike stairs.”

“I did warn you not to go down that way, din’ I,” the worm said smugly. You sat up and glared across at it, rubbing your shoulder.

“Yes, well, I needed to get to the castle. Still do. So how…” You looked ahead to where the grass receded into a very blue pool. It seemed to be the source of light, and it was very surreal. Standing slowly, you walked to the edge and peered down. It was shallow, and very clear, very inviting—but you didn’t trust it. “What is that?”

“It’s water. Have ya really hit yer head that hard?”

“I know it’s water!” you snapped at the creature. “But why is it _glowing_?”

“Dun’ ask me, I have no idea.”

Freckling the water was a pattern of stones, each equidistant from each other and staggered. Only one was close enough to reach on foot, the others all much too far apart to go stone-hopping. Across the expanse of rocks and water, the other side of the cave bore an opening. It looked like the only way out. “What am I supposed to do?”

“How’m I supposed to know?”

“Why are you even here?”

The worm let out a disgruntled “hmph,” and you took your first tentative step onto the one stone you could reach. You felt a small click under your foot like you had cracked an acorn, and suddenly, a glassy blue sheet of ice stretched out over a six-by-four-stones rectangle. “What the…”

“Wait, come back!” cried the worm. “If you take one wrong step the rock’ll disappear and you’ll fall inta the water!”

You turned sharply, arms flailing for balance on your suddenly slippery surface. “So you _do_ know how to solve this thing?”

The worm sighed, nearly invisible among the blue grass. “Well I know how to solve it but I don’ know _how._ I never understood the tick marks!”

“Tick marks?”

“On each rock,” he said. “Each rock at the edge of the ice, of course.”

“Meaning?”

“There are sinking rocks,” he said. “And the tick marks tell ya how many sinkin’ rock are touchin’ it. But they don’t tell ya where. It’s dangerous! Come back!”

You turned your back, ignoring him. “Great. First Tetris, now Minesweeper. Can we get out of the ‘80s, please?”

\--

“Ew don’t lick that, you don’t know where that money has been!” cried Rachel, prying a short little goblin away from the pile of gold he was licking. “Ugh goblins are so rude!”

“He likes the taste of it, leave him alone,” Jareth snapped. “Well, she’s in the Icebreakers room. No one can solve that one.”

“Well she can.”

“Yeah, and unicorns exist,” Jareth scoffed.

Rachel let go of the wriggling goblin and looked back in horror. “Wait, there’s no such thing as unicorns?”

The King sighed, body draped languidly in his throne as he gazed at his crystal ball from afar. “Look, she’s already floundering. It’s a shame, I might not get to play my little mind tricks after all…”

\--

It looked like you were stuck. It really did. Because the little tick marks in the ice told you absolutely nothing. So much necessary concentration was not going on, and you were not even half way to the wall. “Ugh…this is ridiculous.”

To top it off, the dang dog had come back and was barking at you. Every time you almost could potentially concentrate, it would start yapping again. You turned around and shouted over your shoulder, “Shut _up!_ ”

Apparently, “shut up” translated to “come here,” and the white pom-pom of an animal skidded right across the ice. This spelled D-A-N-G-E-R to you, because the creature was literally bounding straight for your legs. She came closer and closer, and you stalled, unsure of how to escape, because the edge was right behind you and if you took another step you might—“AH!”

The warm, fuzzy thing collided with your shins and you stumbled back, expecting to fall into icy cold, fluorescent water, but something crunched under your heal and you were saved by a fresh expanse of ice stretching out behind you. You looked around, panting, and then looked at the dog now on its hind legs, pawing up at you.

“Ow, ow, stop! That hurts!”

Once you gave the thing attention, it trotted off very determinedly over the ice, intentionally breaking what you had deduced were some kind of magical ice crystal created specifically for the purposes of this game. Within a minute, the dog had the entire puzzle solved, and all you had to do was follow it to the end, where it awaited you with an open, barking muzzle.

You made your way across with a puzzled look at the dog, snatching up a couple of the ice crystals on your way, just for fun. Perhaps you could cheat your way out of another puzzle.

You found yourself on solid ground where the dog continued to bark. The sound echoed deafeningly and you crouched down, trying to pet the dog into silence, but it kept poking its nose at your hand. “Hey, stop. Stop!” You grabbed it by the sides, and it stopped barking, fluffy tail swishing from side to side as it tried to lick your hand. “So you’re a girl, huh? Do you have a name?”

Of course the dog couldn’t answer (although, you supposed it was strange to have a non-talking animal in this place), but she looked up at you with big, curious eyes, and you sort of took that for a no.

“Well. You’re white…you’re soft…” you said, finally able to pet between her triangular ears, “And you’re energetic. Borderline spastic. There’s only one name for you: Cocaine.”

She barked in acceptance, licking your palm which you wiped off, and instead of following, she practically led you right out of the cave.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” you said once you were out. “For an annoying little twerp, you did save my life.”

She stood proudly in front of you, surveying the labyrinth from her tiny height before bolting forward down a path on the left. You did not balk at the offer, for upon consulting your watch, you realized you had spent nearly a half hour in that section alone; so you followed Cocaine down through the labyrinth, through several twists and turns, and when she decided you’d been out of her sight for too long she would turn around and bark until she saw you. Once, you rounded the corner and she stopped barking immediately, tail swishing from side to side. She crouched playfully, nearly grinning, and dashed around the next corner with a coy growl.

“You have as much diva in you as Jareth does,” you called.

You noticed something was wrong when you couldn’t see her, and she wasn’t barking. A bit concerned, you followed the only path available, for it hadn’t forked in awhile; and you came upon a vast expanse of bright, orange flowers with broad, silky petals and thick green stems.

Folding your arms, you rolled your eyes and leaned against the wall, sighing at the sight of the white pom-pom asleep in the poppies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time to play  
> NAME  
> THAT  
> REFERENCE!  
> except make it plural  
> it's just that "Name Those References" isn't exactly as catchy.
> 
> Also, I promised my cousin I'd put Cocaine in the story, because American Eskimos' fur   
> Yes, American Eskimo. Not a Pomeranian; they're far too mainstream and their faces remind me of Persians.  
> Snooty cats and tiny dogs: two of my least favorite things.
> 
> Yes okay Minesweeper well, not quite. Ugh I'm the worst at making up puzzles.


	8. A Fractured Fantasy

You had read enough fairy tales to know where this was going.

“Cocaine, wake up,” you called in a high-pitched voice. The dog’s ears perked up. Had she already learned her name? Clever. “Come, come here. Come!”

Still laying in a little ball, she craned her head around and looked back at you with sleepy black eyes before laying her head back down.

You huffed, stripping a couple vines from the wall and fashioning one end into a loop. Careful to stay alert, you took a step into the poppies and snuck the makeshift leash around the dog’s neck, backing out of the flowers immediately. You had already begun to yawn.

“Hey, you dumb dog! Come over here!” you shouted, tugging at the leash. She roused again, whining in complaint, but you tugged on the leash again and she got up, shook, and lazed over to you. “Good girl.” You tried to pet her, but she just jumped up and tried to lick your hand again.

Sighing, you looked over the poppies. When you turned around, a dead end had formed. “Let’s hope the good witch knew her stuff,” you said, taking one of the ice capsules out of your pocket. You threw it out over the poppies and it cracked in the air, forming a thick layer of frost as it settled on the petals and stems. It looked very wintry. “Hah. Take that, goblin brat!”

You strode confidently into the field, invigorated by the cold rather than lulled by the spell of the flowers. It was a pretty wide field, but somehow the ice capsule had managed to cover all of it.

You were about halfway through when you took one step and fell. Again.

\--

“Take _that,_ human brat,” the Goblin King muttered, chuckling darkly as he watched you descend into your mind. “I knew she would think she could out-smart me.”

“I don’t get it,” Rachel complained. “What happened?”

“You know. Poppies. I knew she could get around that, and would do so with crippling arrogance, so I—“

“No I get that,” she said. “But why would poppies make her sleep? They’re just poppies.”

Jareth cast the child a funny glare, and then stood immediately to his feet. “Who said you could touch that? Put it back!”

“No, I’m a princess!” she said defiantly, standing in Jareth’s throne and regally holding his scepter-crop. “I wanna play dress up. Do you have more pretty clothes?”

The King looked down at his puffy, lace-cuffed white shirt, tight pants and stylish-yet-functional boots. “These are not pretty, they’re—“

“I think my mommy has a shirt like that.”

Jareth hmphed indignantly, nostrils flaring. “You contumelious child, you cannot speak to me like that! I am a king!”

“King of what? Weird mazes and gross creatures who do whatever they want? You’re weird.”

At this point, he ignored the child and crossed to his window, overlooking everything the light touched. He conjured a glass bubble out of nothing and wished into it before sending it off through the air.

\--

You didn’t recall waking up but you were in your favorite, most comfortable outfit, lying on the floor with your eyes wide open to a high glass ceiling. You couldn’t remember how you got here, looking around at a vast inside garden with everything from tame to tropical plants, all neatly arranged between towers of bookshelves. Ornate staircases lead up to a higher level with yet more books.

The entire room was made of glass, and in a daze you walked to one windowed wall, feet practically floating you there. Outside were golden flowers covered in snowflakes, and this seemed vaguely familiar to you.

You took it for silence but really, all of the air vibrated with soft, swaying music. It filled your mind, leaving no room for thoughts as expressed with words. This didn’t strike you as strange at all, but what did strike you was the thought that you were looking for something, and you couldn’t remember what.

You were also dressed in a red, silken nightgown, and feeling rather exposed but incredibly sexy. It fit your form in a flattering manner, white lace trimming the curve over your breasts and the hem at the bottom that went mid-way down your thighs. Normally, this would strike you as out of place, but even the fact that you were next to naked in an open, strange place didn’t make you feel uncomfortable.

Though he made no sound, a man descending a staircase from the top level caught your attention. All his features were surreally perfect, from his pure, brown eyes to his short, dark brown hair, his white, smiling teeth and just the sexiest amount of five o’clock shadow.

You were terribly underdressed compared with him, but the thought didn’t register; you were too fixated on how absolutely fine he looked in that dark suit, with a red tie to match your nightgown.

He drew closer and closer to you until finally your hand was in his, knuckles to his lips. He didn’t even have to ask, you just knew; you were going to dance. His other hand took purchase on your hip and held you close to him and you began to sway, following his footsteps without taking your eyes from his face. This lasted a good minute or several, and you felt like you were walking on absolutely nothing, and somehow you both ended up upstairs.

And upstairs, there was a bed, a big one with a golden frame and red dressings. Your body went limp as soon as you saw his smile, and he brought one hand before your face, using his thumb to slip off the gold band around his ring finger. He held it in front of you and then dropped it, and you watched it fall and dissolve into nothing. Although you followed him to the bed, something in the _very_ back of your mind said “no.” You were taken aback by the presence of an actual word, for in this instance, it was foreign to you.

But his hands beckoned you forward and you fell into his embrace. He brushed your hair away from your face and ghosted his lips over yours, and you felt like every part of you was connected to him by marionette strings. His heart beat in exact time with yours as he lied you down on the bed and pressed slow kisses to your jaw and your neck, leaning over you. A most animalistic instinct drove your body to arc, stretch, writhe beneath him, and you slipped one leg around his hips. His lips descended on yours and it intoxicated you. He loosened his tie, removed it and unbuttoned his shirt with one hand, shrugging off the suit jacket while his teeth grazed your collarbone.

“No,” the voice said again, and there was a fracture in the music. Suddenly something felt wrong about this scene.

But it felt so very right when he kissed you again and you brought a hand to caress his rough cheek, suddenly scratching your nails into his skin upon that earlier animalistic impulse. You closed your eyes and melted into the movements, letting him take over your body until you had no control anymore and it felt so _good._ You didn’t feel like you were breathing anymore but that felt even better, and when you opened your eyes you no longer looked into the Cola brown ones of Mr. Jenson but into a pair of beautiful, mismatched eyes. Your fingers were entangled in long locks of light blond hair and you moaned Jareth’s name as he kissed your neck…but as soon as his name passed your lips everything felt wrong again.

You sat straight up and thrust him backward with your hands, covering up quickly with the bedsheets. The music was out of tune and so was this scene, everything crumbling and dissolving, and Jareth grabbed for your wrist, eyes begging, but you lurched away. “I need to find the labyrinth,” you tried to say, but your voice stuck in your throat.

“Run!” cried a very clear voice. You looked around, startled, and followed the anonymous command. “Run, out here!”

There was a sudden thundering of rain on the glass house, and you looked up to see the grey skies and white snowflakes fade quickly into black nothingness and torrents of rain, threatening purple streaks of thunder cracking the sky.

“ _Run!_ ” the voice called again, and you rushed to one of the windows to see a frantic looking redhead holding out his arms to you. “Jump, I’ve got ya!”

You knocked on the glass, looking down at him with worry.

“Jump!”

Despite the glass, you obeyed, bending your knees and springing forward. You came into contact with nothing but you heard the sound of glass shattering behind you, and though you panicked you were caught in the arms of the redheaded stranger.

“Can ya stand?” he asked hurriedly. You looked, bewildered, at his freckled face and green eyes, and nodded. He set you down and grabbed your hand, again repeating the command to “Run!”

Behind you, everything crashed and fell, and even the ground upon which you had just walked crumbled away, spurring you to run faster. Panicked, you tripped over nothing, hand slipping out of the boy’s grasp.

“Oh, for the love ‘a—“ He picked you up again, booking it to some unseen safety, and you tucked your head, trying to sort everything out. But you couldn’t. “Name’s Olivier, by tha way. Nice to finally meet ya. I made yer pocket watch.”

“You—you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Jardin d'Hiver" basically inspired this chapter.
> 
> In which Tia just opens the floodgates of her imagination and trippy stuff happens.  
> No, I don't do drugs, actually. And truth be told, I've never had a crush on a married guy, either! ~~Unless you count celebrities oops.~~ Only villains and a certain teacher...
> 
> Raise your left hand if you absolutely love Mr. Jenson, raise your right if you're a little thrown by him being married!  
>  **Jump up and down if you want to know who the heck Olivier is!!** But that doesn't mean I'm just gonna tell you in the comments XD


	9. Skewed Speeches

“Okay. I really did not need to see _that!_ ” Rachel spat, staring in horror at the crystal ball.

“I told you not to look!” Jareth said sternly. “Do you ever do as you’re told?”

“I dunno, no body really tolds me what to do. What was the point of that, anyways?”

Jareth sighed and reclined in his throne, relaxing. “Planting a seed,” he said. “The conception of a very, very powerful emotion.”

Rachel blinked. “Well I didn’t need to see my daddy like that. Ewie!”

Again, the King sighed, increasingly frustrated with this child’s ability to understand and to speak. “Why don’t you just go and play with something?”

“I don’t know what I could play with.”

“Anything!”

She looked around the strange, goblin-ruled room with over-exaggerated confusion in her bright, vacant eyes. “There’s no toys!”

“Oh you don’t need toys to play,” he groaned. “Use your imagination or something.”

Rachel groaned, crossing her arms in a pout. “That’s what Daddy always says! I don’t know how and he won’t teach me!”

The confused fae arched a perfectly kept eyebrow at the child. “You don’t know how to use your imagination?” This was a foreign concept to him. He had _lived_ in his imagination, quite literally, for years. He had been born with the ability to create using sheer thought and curiosity. How could one not know how to use his imagination? “Well…ah…you simply…think. You think about…things. And you let your mind wander.”

“But where do I let it wander?”

“Anywhere!” His impatience was showing again and he groaned. “Look, if I have to teach you how to be imaginative, you will never learn. I’m sorry. Now figure out how to entertain yourself or go to _sleep,_ I am done. I need to pay your babysitter a visit soon.”

The pudgy blonde girl flopped to the floor with an overdone, tortured sigh, and a little sob for good measure. In this position, she could see the climbing walls of the circular room, and she noted that there was a shelf, way up high on the wall, with no reason for being there. “Mr. King guy? What’s that thing?”

“What’s what thing?”

“That thing there.” She pointed up at the shelf. “What’s it for? What’s up there?”

“Well it’s for—“ Jareth began, running a tired hand down his cheek. But then he perked up, an idea suddenly snatching him into an upright posture. “What do _you_ think it’s for?”

Rachel pondered for a moment, and then opened her mouth, about to tell him what. “It’s for—“ and then her mouth closed, and she looked away, giving an embarrassed giggle. “I don’t know.”

“No, you were going to say something. Don’t be shy, girl. Tell me what it was.”

“I think it’s where maybe a fairies can go to sleep. I think there’s beds up there, little ones.”

Jareth knew the little girl was entirely off base. It was for absolutely nothing except a sort of time-out where bothersome goblins were put if they weren’t bothersome enough to be sent to the bog. But he let the little girl spin her tale, and soon she was prancing around the room on light feet, humming to herself, no doubt delighted in this newfound freedom of being able to make up stories.

\--

After a brief moment of blackout, you woke up on the stone floor of a room with no ceiling; only four sparkling walls. “I’m back in the-- _where are my clothes?_ ” you shrieked, feeling very naked even though you were robed in a green velvet tailcoat. Of course, you felt naked because it was literally the only thing on your body, even though it sufficed to cover up all parts of you that you wouldn’t want on display.

“Ah, you’re awake, good,” said a lilting voice you had heard once before. “How’re ye feelin’, young one? Not too fuzzy in the head, now?”

Puzzled, you sat up, looking confusedly to your right, to the source of the voice. There crouched a young man in slacks that matched the tailcoat, brass-colored very, very platformed shoes, and a leaf-patterned waistcoat to match those. He wore a red shirt beneath that matched his shaggy hair and fairly made him look like Christmas.

“Your cheeks are righ’ scarlet, ye sure you’re all right?”

“No, I…Ol-Oliver, right?”

“ _Oliv-i-eh_ , actually. Mum was French.”

“Mm.” You swallowed, blushing and pulling the green velvet closer around you. “Where are my clothes?”

“Couldn’t tell ya…you’ll have te find Jareth if ye want ‘em back,” he explained apologetically. His pink lips quirked up into a half-smile. “You’re probably a bit confused, yeah? Look…I haven’t got much time t’explain. All I can tell ye is that I’m not the bad guy. M’kay?”

“Well who are you? What do you want with me?”

“I want to help you.” He seemed sincere enough, and he waited for your expression to calm down before he continued. “I’m an illusionist. A good one. And I’ve been helpin’ ye from the start. The minute you lose this watch…” He produced the silver watch from the pocket of his waistcoat, and you took hold of it instantly. “The minute you lose that, I can’t find ye anymore, I can’ help ye. I’ve done my best so far and I’ll continue to get you to the centre. I’ll dissolve any illusions that I can for you, all righ’?”

“But why—“

“Like I said, I can’t explain much.” He glanced around him and you looked around as well, taking a start to the vision of one of the four walls melting. “I can’t hide from Jareth’s sight for long. Look at me,” he said, taking your chin in one hand, green eyes piercing yours. “Whatever you do, stay focused, and hold on ta that watch!”

A loud, yapping bark stunned the air and Olivier startled, seizing up and vanishing with a quickly whispered “goodbye!”

“Cocaine?” You were almost glad to see the little fuzz ball, until she planted her paws on your shoulder and began to dig at the velvet. “Ow, OW! Get off!”

When you stood up she scratched at your bare legs, so you kicked her side with just enough force to get a little squeak out of her, and she leapt away, eyeing you curiously.

“That’s better. Now you gonna help me out or what?”

Walking once again through a mess of sparkling halls, you still felt so uncomfortably naked and you had no _clue_ how close you were to the castle this time. If Olivier was to be trusted, he wouldn’t have brought you back to the beginning of the labyrinth, so you just had to assume the odds were in your favor.

The rough stones scraped the bottoms of your feet. You couldn’t continue on like this for the rest of the labyrinth, it was utterly ridiculous!

Cocaine commenced a conniption of caustic cries, careening around the next corner. Almost instantly, she ran in the opposite direction and turned around again with a skid, crouching and barking and flashing her tail back and forth.

“Shut _up,_ you vexatious atrocity!” a soft, low, irritated voice said as Jareth came into sight. He eyed you greedily, then turned to look at the still yapping dog and when he pointed to her, she was silent, and sat. He looked at you again. “The father of the child you’re babysitting for,” he lilted, head tilted to rend you convicted.

“No. No, okay? That was a bad-acid-trip deal,” you immediately defended, standing up straight and trying to look impressive in a coat two sizes too big. “He is _married_ and he has a _daughter_ \--“

“And I saw everything!” Jareth chuckled, backing you against a sudden wall that hadn’t been there previously. “You can’t deny the way you felt.”

You glared defiantly into his face, but one look at those lips and the fantastic memory they triggered made you look away. “Well, yes…in that moment, and with no wits about me, it was…it was…a little intoxicating…”

He leaned close to you, leaning on his arm bent at the elbow. His face was right before yours, his body so tantalizingly close as he loomed over you. A sense of forbidden reminiscence filled you, made you salivate, made you want that promising bedroom scene and that blond hair gripped tightly in your hands…

“But wh-why would you put him there? What did you do to my head?”

“What did I do?” he purred. “I didn’t do anything to your _head,_ pet, except take out all the words. All the ridiculous labels that keep you from admitting what you truly feel. ‘Adulterer.’ ‘Homewrecker.’ ‘Married.’”

“You are absolutely ridiculous—“

“’King.’ ’Kidnapper.’ ’Tyrant.’ ’Monster.’”

You looked at him and he seemed almost hurt. What was going on? “Is this your way of seducing me? Because it isn’t really working.” But his position over you did still spark that base, animal impulse you had felt before, when his lips had played on your neck and promised release from all the stress of this mess…

“Took away any concept of age. No thirty-three, no…five-hundred and six…” His eyes searched your face for any kind of revelation but you were still trying to figure him out. “I’m trying to show you that…your inhibitions can all go away. The child can go home if you’ll just stay with me. You can have your own creation and your own names for things, you just need _me_ to make it happen. And my instinct tells me you’re hesitant to take up the offer because you have given me so many terrible labels.”

“Well you were right on the nose with kidnapper, actually,” you snapped, and he backed away with a strained sigh. “What makes you think I would want to stay with you, at all, ever?”

“Of course you would ask that!” he roared, raging away from you. “Do you think it’s easy? Do you? It isn’t, it’s not fair. None of this is ever fair. Do what you want, consort with that ginger illusionist! Reclaim your child and simultaneously tear my heart from my chest, let it be crushed under the feet of your victory procession!” He choked up, drawing a shaky breath and a gloved hand to his lips. “Just know that I am done playing nice.”

In an icy, swirling cloud of glitter, he left you alone and utterly baffled, and in his place were your old clothes. The dog trotted over and barked at the place where Jareth had been standing, and, wracked with a suddenly new intimidation, you dressed yourself. If he had been playing nice before, you worried for your future in this game of puzzles.


	10. The Ferocious Fears

Run, run, _run_ , don’t trip. Just keep running.

These were the only thoughts you had room for as the mechanism chased you, blocking the entire pathway back, its various metal bits and parts churning menacingly like barbed beaters.

The dog was long gone. You chose to believe she had gotten away, but it seemed unlikely.

This had been going on for five minutes, but it felt like longer. Your legs burned and so did your lungs; your feet just plain hurt. And as they continued to slap against the stone floor, you could almost feel the soles of your shoes depleting.

Brick, brick, brick, root. You dodged obstacles and loose stones, barely, eyes fixed on the ground before your feet. Brick. Loose brick. Ledge. _Ledge!_

You skidded to a halt just in time, heart thudding. Before you was a deep chasm, studded with sharp metal spikes at the bottom. Your heart pattered out of control and made you sick and dizzy. The mechanism wasn’t far behind you. You spun around, and then around again, frantically feeling the walls for footholds. You were quickly running out of room. “JARETH!” you cried in dismay, tears searing down your cheeks as you pounded your fists against the wall. “Jareth, stop! _Stop it! Help me!_ ”

It didn’t make sense to you how, but at that moment the fobwatch tumbled out of your pocket and into the pit.

Onto the pit.

You didn’t have time to think so you just leapt forward, landing dead-center on top of the gap. When you didn’t fall in, you kept running, only looking back to see the illusion of the hole disappear. Your eyes dried up immediately and your head grew dizzy and you just kept on running, following the twists and turns of the labyrinth. There were no more forks, no more branches.

Dead end.

“No…no, no, no,” you muttered in denial. You didn’t have a lot of time.

There was a loose bit of brick near the bottom of a wall, a fragmented piece budging out just a little. You kicked it loose and tossed it at the wall, and to your heart-sinking dismay, it made contact.

Right…it made contact, with something, but not the wall. The chunk of brick was frozen in the air.

You shot forward toward it; perhaps whichever force keeping the rock there would let you find a way out! Step, step, _trip fall oof._ “Ow…stairs? Augh…” You stumbled to your feet and scrambled up, up past the piece of brick to the top of the wall and down the other side. The metallic grinding and whirring of the machine pursuing you muffled away and stopped, and you slowly descended the other side of the wall.

It had a good many footholds and went down a lot further than the first side. The consistent brick pattern rising before your face calmed your nerves, and when your feet touched the ground once again, you leaned a cheek against the rough stone and breathed deep, heaving a dry sob here and there.

Your heart slowed and quieted and you checked the fobwatch. You still had a long way to go; while on top of that wall, you had glimpsed the castle in the distance. “What did I even do to you, Jareth?” you pleaded into the air, falling to your knees in exhaustion.

A deafening rumble disturbed your repose, a shadow eclipsing the light. Eyes wide, you looked over your shoulder at a towering beast of shining scales and thick, sharp teeth.

\--

“Is that a _dragon?_ ” Rachel shrieked, clutching the crystal ball. Jareth swatted at one of her pudgy hands with his crop.

“Don’t smudge the glass.”

“Is that thing gonna eat her?” Her small eyes filled with fright and she shrank away from the Goblin King in horror. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh, shut up, it isn’t going to _touch_ her!” he sneered. “It can’t, it doesn’t exist. It’s a figment of the mind.”

“Then why can I see it?”

“Because you’re a child,” he said. “With a simple mind and simple thoughts and _simple_ eyes that see benevolent fairy tale creatures that don’t exist, like Saint Nicholas, and the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny—“

“But—“

“And unicorns and mermaids and all those stupid, pretty little fantasies, well guess what? Magic isn’t like that! Magic isn’t all happiness and ponies and rainbows! Magic is twisted and it’s pain and it costs you an arm and a leg and your _soul!_ It is a torture device as well as a drug!”

“You’re scaring me!” the girl cried, sitting down and tucking her feet up to her chest. “Stop it, let me go…”

“And _your_ generation is the _worst_ I’ve seen. Even vampires and demons, the things that should frighten you, are now soft, caring, lovable creatures. It isn’t like that,” he raged. “Do you read? No, you can’t, you’re dyslexic. And if you could read, you wouldn’t be able to stomach the tales of the Brothers Grimm, the magic that _really_ is out there. You can’t stomach it because it’s real, and it’s twisted.”

When Jareth cooled from his fury, the child was nowhere to be seen, though he could hear her sobbing echo off the walls. For a moment, he almost felt sympathy. For a moment, he wanted to stop breathing, wanted to choke on all those harsh words and die.

But that moment passed quickly enough and he tucked up into his throne like a sulky child, glaring at the crystal ball as he watched you live out your terror.

\--

The dragon couldn’t seem to sense you now. You had diverged far from your intended path and now found yourself under the labyrinth, again, in a narrow, dark passage. It was cold, it was damp, it was despairing.

You felt like if this could get any worse, it would, and you knew exactly how it could. Fear built up inside of you, nameless fear. No, it was named; it had many names. Every base fear inside of you built up. Every stupid, embarrassing fear, every unexplainable fear, every entirely rational fear. You saw spots before your eyes, suddenly feeling very anxious.

And then, there it was. “No, no no…no…no…” Your voice choked up in your throat and your breathing quickened. A scream peeled out of your throat before you could control it and your heart rushed forward to get out of your chest. Your feet couldn’t move, _you_ couldn’t move, and your eyes stayed fixed on the thing in front of you. Instantly, you were struck with the strong desire to die, right there, to stop existing.

\--

Your terror fed his eyes like an addictive drug. “Jareth!” he watched you scream.

“Stop being mean,” Rachel whimpered from where she hid behind the throne.

“I see you aren’t done sniveling.”

“Stop it,” she said, more sternly, causing the King to look around at the angry blonde girl.

“You dare to command—“

“Being afraid is the worst thing ever!” she shouted. “I don’t like her very much but I still wouldn’t do that to her! What did she do to you!”

“Sh-she…”

“You’re just being mean because you don’t get what you want. Bobby at school does that all the time.”

“Are you likening me to a prepubescent bully?”

“I don’t know what that one word means but yes!” she cried. “You’re just being a bully! I don’t know exactly what you want but I think it has something to do with getting her to like you. Scaring her is not a good way to do that.”

Perhaps it was the determination in the girl’s bold eyes, the pout of her delicate pink lips, the angry flush on her red cheeks, but remorse washed over Jareth’s stone cold heart.

“You go say sorry right now!”

“Oh, or what?”

“Or I’m running away and go find her!” she shouted, secretly hoping she wouldn’t have to do that. She knew she wasn’t nearly clever enough. “And then we can leave and you can be lonely forever!”

Jareth paused. “Gribleaf, watch the kid.”

“Where ya goin’, highness?” rasped the goblin.

“Out.”

\--

You had made it out of there on your own, thank you very much. Very shaken, very twitchy, and still having the ghost of an anxiety attack every couple of minutes simply from the memory, you had stumbled upon a cave-like room.

It was full of goblins, and they were all screaming at you.

Just downright creepy. You weren’t even sure of where you were anymore. This had all turned into some terrible, twisted nightmare and

“Shut up! All of you, shut up!”

Jareth’s voice cut through the screaming, and though it all paused for a bit, it continued. The Goblin King took you forcefully by the arm and disappeared with you, and right as that happened you made eye contact with a pair of bulging, insane yellow eyes staring right at you. The image was now seared into your brain.

You tore your arm away from him, finding yourself back in the _normal_ part of the labyrinth again. “What was that?”

“That…ah, that was the room I made where all the goblins scream at you. I—“

“I mean all of that!” you shouted. “The dragon! The…the…big machine thing…you sick, twisted creep!”

“I’m sorry!” he blurted, eyes widening innocently. You were shocked silent. “I apologize for putting you through that. It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t fair.”

“You’re darn right it wasn’t fair.” A slight tremor damaged the severity of your tone. “What made you think that was okay? Logic puzzles I get, trying to make me forget things, fine, but _that_ \--“

“Please,” he implored, rubbing his temples. “The apology was difficult enough.”

You waited, arms folded, trembling in anger.

His lips were pressed tight together, his demeanor solemn. A smooth, deep breath rose and fell in his chest, and finally he looked at you again. His eyes searched yours, either for trust or stability, perhaps both; but whatever he was searching for, he didn’t seem to find. “I gave up a lot for this world,” he said, “and I fight desperately to gain back what I have lost. I simply…don’t know how.”

“What do you mean?”

“I…” He choked up here, clearing his throat quickly. “I lost love. And possibly the ability to find it again. I…just need…you to stay. Someone to stay. Anyone to stay.”

“I’ll stay,” you offered before seeking consent from your brain.

His lips fell open. “What?”

“I’ll _consider_ staying,” you corrected. “And, of course, my choice could be heavily influenced if you would just take me out of the labyrinth right now and bring me to the child.”

He pondered. “Consider, mm? Heavily influenced?”

“Yes.”

“But that isn’t a definite yes.”

You shrugged. “After what you put me through, my consideration alone is generous, Jareth.”

He put a gloved hand to his lips and the other hand on a protruding hip. His head tilted from one side to the other as he considered you, and he began a slow pace around you, staring into thought. You stayed frozen, a little awkward under his eyes.

“What are you, a vulture?”

“Close, owl,” he muttered, still thinking. When he came to a stop in front of you, he looked into your eyes again, still searching for that something.

Again, he didn’t find it.

“Please, just take me to the child.”

It was impossible to say if he would give in; he seemed to be considering the proposition very thoroughly. And then he opened his mouth with an apologetic shake of the head. “I’m sorry.” And with a snap of the fingers he was gone, and you still had a very long way to go.

“Well ‘e’s a bit moody,” said the clear voice of a familiar redhead. You looked up to your left, where he was perched on the wall, legs crossed.

“What happened to helping me with illusions?” you spat.

“Ah, easy now. Did ya think the watch just magically ‘opped out your pocket and into the fake pit o’ doom?”

He chuckled and leapt from his perch, snapping the fingers of his left hand. You heard a distant bark and soon the light, quick scraping sounds of Cocaine trotting toward you. Soon she was barking loud enough to make you deaf, jumping at your knees. “Ouch, down, down! It’s good to see you too, I thought you were dead!” You crouched and petted the dog generously, letting her lick your hand.

“Look, the man won’ exactly drawr you a map. But I can. You just need ta put your trust in me,” Olivier chirped, smiling from one round, red cheek to the other.

You smiled despite your suspicion. “Look…that’s nice of you, but I still feel like you want something from me.”

“Oh, nothing, not a thing,” he assured. “I see too many fail down here. Too many don’t make it to the center. I decided it was time ta step up an’ help, and you’re a lucky one.”

“No seriously, what is it you want?”

“I’m just here to be your friend.” He placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder and smiled, looking right into your eyes. You took a step back. “Now d’ya want that map or not?”

“Well, you’ve helped me this far…” You sighed. “Sure. Yes, thank you a million, Olivier.”

He practically beamed, and with a snap, he vanished as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sometimes, it gets so hard to breathe_  
>  Your eyes see right through me  
>  _You've got the map, come get to me_  
>  These knuckles break before they bleed  
>  _Tear out these veins that own my heart_  
>  This skin, it wears your lasting mark  
> I've built these walls, come get to me  
> Come get to me
> 
> _This place, these walls, mean everything to me_  
> [[link]](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dXX7rnPOXIQ)
> 
>  
> 
> But srsly come on, Jareth, that's not how you treat a lady. You got ta got ta try a little tenderness~! The chicks LOVE that romantic crap!
> 
> Wow sorry for taking so long. I just...Hetalia. Some people enjoy sex with other people, some enjoy sex with countries, get over it.  
> I'm Pangaeasexual. *shottttt* *also coined it suckas*
> 
> ANYWAY.  
> I don't know how many of you have phobias (and I mean an ACTUAL phobia, not a rational fear or just a hatred of something) but in case you didn't, that little two-paragraph snapshot of the reader is a good example of what you feel. I just want to take this moment to say that if you make fun fun of someone's fear or phobia, you're a complete dick. It may not make sense to you why anyone would be afraid of a slug or something, but the fear is very real to them. I, personally, am arachnophobic (irrationally afraid of spiders), to the point where I've almost blacked out several times. If it's a big enough spider or a traumatic enough encounter for me, I will spend the rest of the day actually wishing I was dead. It's THE worst feeling, and for a lot of people it's really embarrassing, especially when their peers don't take the fear seriously.  
>  **But back to how this pertains to the story:** If you were curious about what exactly /it/ was that the reader was so afraid of, seriously just fill that in on your own. It's just whatever she fears most. A boggart, if you will. Yes. Good! A boggart!
> 
> Um also feels. Um also I'm gonna write more APH Scotland fics #no regrets  
> hope you guys like kilt porn bekaz


	11. The Rules Rewritten

“That’s a pretty big map,” you declared when Olivier had finally unrolled the long scroll.

“Well, it’s not exactly a map,” he said in a high, guilty voice, scratching the back of his red head. “It’s more of…a…psychic paper?”

“Psychic?”

“Slightly.”

“Mmhm.” You stooped for a closer look. It looked like a very detailed timeline. There were symbols ranging from plants to landmarks to strange creatures, and words written in a language you couldn’t recognize. “So…what does it…do?”

“It’s the Oraculum,” he said impressively, as if the word meant anything to you. “I’ve been rewritin’ it meself.”

“Oraculum, like oracle? Is that what you mean by psychic?” you asked, running a finger over the fibrous scroll. “So you’re…rewriting history. Or, the future.”

“Well…when I say ‘rewritin’,’ what I really mean is I’ve just added a wee part. That part’s not important.” He waved a hand carelessly, crouching beside you, and took an acid green quill pen from the inner pocket of his coat.

“Well then, why show me this?”

“I’m gonna add another part,” he whispered, smiling at you. Adorable. In a Lucky-Charms-leprechaun sort of way. He scribbled quickly on the Oraculum, covering his work. You watched the pre-existing ink lines jitter and shift, and then Olivier’s hand lifted, the quill swishing back and forth on its own. He turned and looked at you, stretching his legs out to the side of you, and smiled. “I’m writin’ in the part where ya make it ta the castle!” he said with glee. “All you’re gonna hafta do, to avoid suspicion, is play along with Jareth’s li’l game for a wee bit longer. You’ve got seven hours left. Follow the dog and she’ll show ya where to go.”

“How does she know?”

“Because I wrote in that she does. You’ll find yourself in another one o’ Jareth’s puzzles; a candy cane cage in the middle of a sugary pit of pure deliciousness.” He licked his lips and gazed wistfully into the distance. “It’s an old puzzle o’ his, but it’s one o’ me favorites.”

“Sounds magically delicious,” you muttered.

“Hm?”

“Nothing, continue.”

“So after you solve that puzzle, you’ll go down some stairs—“

“Wait, how do I solve the puzzle?”

He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a silver Zippo, tossing it to you with ease. You caught it, fumbling a bit, and flicked it open.

“This’ll help me solve the puzzle?”

“It’ll help ya to cheat!” he said with the utmost cheer. “You’ll melt a hole right through the cage and not have to worry about the actual puzzle.”

“I like it.”

“Right. So then you’ll go down the stairs. I’ve gotta warn you, though, they’re a wee bit tricky. And once you descend the stairs, there will be a hallway full of doors. You’ll take the third one on your right.”

“Why all this roundabout stuff?” you asked, irritated. “Why does it have to be an entire hallway? Why can’t it just take me straight to the castle?”

“Jareth’s magic would detect such a simple intrusion,” he explained. “By clouding the corridor with more than one door, he won’t be able to detect the breech in security.”

“I don’t follow. It would still open to his castle, right?”

“No.” He snapped his fingers and the Oraculum rolled up with an impressive _thsssssup_ , quill falling dead beside it. “It’ll open up to the Goblin City, which is still close enough to raise alarm, but as I said before, the presence of other portals—other doors—will sort of cover it up.”

“Can you give me an analogy?”

“Nope! Carry on, now, I’ll be seein’ ya one more time before you get to the center but, ah, it won’t be too big of a deal.” He pulled you up to your feet and prodded you in one direction, calling the dog with a whistle.

“Wait!” You swirled around and grabbed his wrist, and he yanked it away with a look of shock. “Who are you? What do you want of me in exchange for all this?”

“I’ve…already told you…”

“Right, yeah, sense of honor,” you jested. “What’s the _real_ reason? Who _are_ you?”

“I’m…” He sighed, pocketing the pen and the scroll. “I’m an Illusionist, and I swear, I only mean to help ya. I’m tryin’ to be a pal. And I want you to remember how much I’ve done for you, it’ll do me heart some good.”

“Olivier.” You kept your voice steady and stern, looking him right in those green eyes. “What do you want from me?”

He stared back, and with a sigh, he finally divulged, “Nothing you’ll miss. It’s small. Really. A trifle. But you don’t need to worry about that right now; you need to find Miss Rachel.”

“What is it?”

“Look--! I…I know you don’t wanna trust me, but you said earlier that you did, and you would.” His eyes begged you to soften your heart. “I can’t tell you what it is right now, and you’ll just have to trust me, okay?”

You took a deep breath and let it go, trying to look past your skepticism. “I’ll trust you if you can answer one more question.”

“Ask it.”

“What did you add to the Oraculum before?”

He smiled widely, glad to give the answer to this one. “My pocket watch, dearie. The pocket watch that’s been helpin’ ya all this time. Now go, carry on, my wayward friend. There’ll be peace when you reach the end.”

With that, he vanished, and Cocaine barked at you and led you away, as foretold.

\--

“Something’s wrong,” Jareth muttered, scrutinizing the blank crystal ball. “She was just busting my balls before but now they all seem to have gone out completely, at the same time. I can’t see where she is!”

There was an odd lack of snappy response to this declaration; only the chattering of goblins.

“Rachel?”

There yonder on the throne she lied, all tucked up like a tired feline. Her pudgy cheek nestled in the crook of her arm and her round little nose drew quick breaths into her lungs. The delicate fringe of eyelash marking her closed eyes fluttered every once in awhile with dreams.

The King sighed and stood, grabbing a pinch of golden sand from a glass jar on a shelf. He fashioned it into a good dream and blew it from his hand, watching it descend into her fragile subconscious.

Upon his return to the globe, Jareth was taken aback by the sudden image of you ensnared in a sugary entrapment of doom.

\--

“Right…” You grabbed hold of the Zippo in your pocket, but before cheating your way out, you figured you might want to see what the puzzle actually was.

The thick, red-and-white poles of your cage were all interlocked horizontally in very specific patterns. It looked familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it…

“Hello again,” Jareth spoke, startling you. You turned, looking at him through the cage. Cocaine barked and growled at him at first, but then resumed her process of licking on the nub end of a candy cane. The King smiled lazily, eyes relaxed as he leaned against the peppermint bars. “Seems you’ve got yourself in a bit of a puzzle.”

“Oh, yeah, a game of Jenga’s gonna keep me out of your castle.” _That’s_ what it reminded you of.

“Oh, already figured it out?” he cooed, showing his teeth when his smile widened. “Then solve it.”

“It’s really so simple,” you continued. “It’s like Jenga or pick-up-sticks; all I have to do is move pieces and be careful of the pieces I move.”

“Darling,” he said, grabbing on to one of the poles and tugging with great strain. “Even I can’t move these. How do you expect that you can?”

“Well, I hadn’t given that much thought. Cocaine, stop, that’s bad for dogs.”

“Well…I _could_ just let you out, you know.”  He placed a hand on a bar near his head and leaned his forehead on his glove, peering at you through the gap. “I could help you out of the whole labyrinth from here, right to the center…but only if you say yes to me.”

“I told you I might consider it,” you said, “and only if you brought me right to Rachel. That was about half an hour ago and I’m a little bit less likely to consider, even now.”

“Really? Even trapped by a Christmas candy with no foreseeable way out? Look, you might think you can depend on this… _Olivier_ , and don’t deny that you’ve been with him; only he can block out all my monitor globes at once.”

“Wait, what? How well do you know him?’

“Now just say you’ll stay in the Underground and I’ll let you out and Rachel will be free and Mr. Jenson will be oh so happy raising his precious daughter with his neglectful wife and you can live the life you create for yourself. This is a golden deal.”

His unmatched eyes searched yours and you looked away, shoving your hand into your pocket again. He chuckled, about to say something else, but he was met with a lighter flame not five inches away from his eyes. He gasped and stumbled back, and the candy canes melted quickly. “Cocaine! Out! Go!” Before it could collapse on top of you from the lack of structure, you ducked out of the melted exit, quickly caught up by Jareth’s arms. “Hey!”

“Perhaps you should have taken the back way,” he suggested complacently. Yes, that would have been a better idea, but far less dramatic. One of his hands held you tight around the waist; the other gave your hair a quick yank.

“OUCH! Let go of me!” You kicked and tantrummed and he just dragged you backward, struggling to do so. “What are you even doing!”

“I don’t know, come back here and do the puzzle right, you brat!”

And without a further word, he stumbled backward, pulling you down with him. You fell right on his chest, earning a pained “ouf!”

Your feet were dizzy and your heart sped. You looked over at Jareth, still in his arms. His face was covered in powdered sugar. “Hey, Your Highness, you have some white stuff all over your face.”

“Wh--! I do not!” he cried, slapping a black glove to his face. He looked at the soiled glove to you, and then back to the glove. “Oh, I suppose I did.” Eyes returned to you, he put the tip of his gloved finger into his mouth.

“Jareth, don’t,” you said, trying to pull away; but he held you tighter. He continued to lick the sugar off of his gloves, suckling at the tips of his fingers, eyes locked with yours the whole time. After a minute, you realized he wasn’t really even holding on anymore. So you sat up, surprised at the heat in your cheeks. “Well, this has been lovely, but while you give your fingers a blowjob, I must go.”

“Wait!” He tried to pull you back down but Cocaine came to your rescue, chomping his wrist between her canine jaws. “OW!”

“Ahahaha, sucker!” You swung around and stuck your tongue out, continuing the way Cocaine had been headed. “It’s still a no. See you at the castle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ASIDE FROM THE LUCKY CHARMS and the Oraculum, who can spot some references?   
> Also I'm sorry for Olivier's attempted accent...I think I'm going for Irish...What is it with me and Britain, I don't understaaaand.
> 
> Annnnd I would stay up but it's past midnight and I'm singing at church tomorrow in big girl service and omg it's the church's anniversary so it's kind of a big deal. I am literally singing before the entire congregation.  
> So yep goodnight sweet dreams! *hands you a slice of Sweet Dream Pie*


	12. A Delusioned Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter which contains attempted rape. Feel free to skip. I was a dick in 2013.

“Olivier, where are these stairs of which you speak?” you called into empty air. You had been ambling along for a good while, following the same repetitive zig-zag pattern. You had neglected to check your watch, but were certain this had been going on for no less than twenty minutes. “Come on, man, I get you’re going for authenticity, but this is a little nuts!”

Aha, another voyeur-ball. You grabbed the lighter out of your pocket and launched it at the glass, watching as it shattered. The Zippo landed amidst the sparkling shards and you stooped to pick it up, beaten by Cocaine.

“Hey! Get that out of your mouth, you crackhead!” you cried, reaching toward the dog’s muzzle. She shook her head away from you and crouched down on her front paws, fluffy tail wagging in taunt. “Drop it!”

A small growl came through her throat and she bounded away from you like a rabbit.

“Get back here! You’ll light your stupid mouth on fire!” You ran after the creature, knowing you wouldn’t catch up unless she let you. “You’ll puncture the casing and poison yourself and you can’t understand a word I’m saying and I’m just wasting my breath—ugh.”

“Rawrk! Rrrrawrk!”

“Finally!” You reached for the silver lighter, but the dog snatched it up once again and trotted down a flight of stone steps. “Ah! Stairs! Yes!”

You tripped over the last few steps and cursed under your breath.

Before you was a long hallway full of wooden doors. Third one to the right. You reached for the brass handle, but a shrill bark from the dog interrupted you.

“What? This is the door!”

You reached for the handle again and she continued to bark, then stole up the lighter again and ran to the end of the hall. “Come back here.”

“Mmrf!”

You sighed and leaned on the door. “Come here, now.”

She whined in the back of her throat. You literally did not have time for this foolishness, and thus turned the handle, discovering yet another downward of stairs. “Oh, that’s fantastic.”

Upon your first step, the door shut behind you of its own accord. Through darkness, you reached the landing, feeling the walls for support all the way. Another door appeared in your few inches of visibility, but this one wasn’t made of wood; it was solid, silvery steel, and fixed near the top, about a head taller than you, was a small window. The door had a press bar. This wasn’t like Jareth.

But it could be an illusion. Yes, yes it could be. You were too smart for this. Of course Jareth would try to fool you with so simple an illusion as disguising a door to make it seem out of place.

It _was_ like him, right?

You pushed on the bar.

“Great! Come right in, I’ve been waitin’ for ya!”

“Olivier?” A strong smell like cleaning chemicals hit your senses and you winced, shocked a moment. The door clanged behind you. The small room was lit by four long fluorescent lights. Each began to blur into the other. Your mouth formed a word. Olivier’s name.

\--

“Ah…sst…”

“Is it bleeding?”

“No, not anymore, I’ve cleaned it…” The Goblin King winced at the puncture wounds on his wrist and the heel of his palm. “It stings! I think it might be infected…does this bit look puffy to you?”

“You’re such a baby!” Rachel groaned, etching another drawing onto the wall with a stick dipped in glitter. The medium was surprisingly effective. “I got worse ouchies at the playground at school.”

“I got bit by a dog!”

“I got bit by a squirrel one time,” Rachel shrugged. “My mommy freaked out a lot but we went to the doctors, and it didn’t give me any rabees or anything and I was fine. Plus, isn’t this your dog or something? She seems domsest—domest—she seems like a house dog.”

Jareth leaned over the side of his throne, wounded hand elevated as he peered down at the girl. Her drawings were lacking in proper anatomy, creativity, and inspiration, but she seemed to marvel at the way it sparkled. Occasionally, she would draw random brush strokes and swirls just to see the glitter. “I believe the word you seek is ‘domestic.’ Are you enjoying your artwork?”

Rachel’s shoulders slumped, blonde head bowing as she lowered her drawing utensil. “No. I can’t draw kitties.

“Kittens? Why would you want to draw kittens? That’s terribly ordinary for a child your age.” Swinging his legs down to the floor, Jareth stood and walked toward the little girl, crouching behind her. He took the stick from her hand and began drawing on a blank part of the wall. “Wait, I’d prefer to draw in a different color.” With a sly grin, he tapped a gloved finger on the end of the stick, and the color of the glitter turned gold.

“Whoa!”

“Now, instead of cats…why not draw…a fairy? Hmm, no, still far too ordinary. What shall I teach you to draw…” He placed a finger to his lips in ponder, staring at the wall.

“I could draw a goblin,” Rachel said.

“A goblin, yes! How clever. Now, here’s how you go about it…first you’ve got to get where the head should be. And then you’ve got to give him very big eyes.”

“Her.”

“Hm?”

“I want the goblin to be a girl.”

“Right,” said Jareth. “Naturally. Well, then, we’ve got to give her a dress, and—“

“She doesn’t want a dress, though,” she said. “She doesn’t want a dress and she doesn’t want Barbies. She wants…overalls.”

“Overalls?”

“Yeah, and she wants a Captain America doll and an Iron Man doll and they can save all the Barbie dolls. Look, like this…” And she reclaimed her makeshift crayon from Jareth, proceeding to draw out her fantasy for this goblin girl. “And she’s smart, like her daddy. She’s just like her daddy.”

Mildly bemused, Jareth returned to the crystal ball.

It was in a hallway, focused on a desperately barking little white dog. It kept scratching at a wall, and whining.

“What’s this?”

The silver thing at the dog’s paws caught Jareth’s attention. He recognized the design on that lighter.

“It can’t…no…” With a dramatic sweep, he donned a high-collared cloak and strode to the door, calling up his scepter into his hand. “Rachel, I am leaving. I will be back soon. Just keep…keep being…a kid. Nothing can harm you as long as you’re here.”

“M’kay.”

Out of the door, which he secured with an enchantment, Jareth made frantic pace toward the labyrinth. “Where could she be…” With a flick of the hand, he conjured a glass ball, shook it, and peered in. “Please no complications…come on…”

\--

Your ears awakened to a very loud scratching noise. The noise dimmed. Your arms and legs felt strained, and they felt cold, and you tried to pull them into you for warmth but they were too heavy. Your knees were cold and sore. What was that scratching? Why did you feel so dizzy? Your head lolled. It was an effort to lift it. Your neck was stiff. How long had you been out? Your eyes bleared open. A desk. On the ceiling? No, you were sitting up. You were kneeling. Your arms, out to your sides, ached terribly in this position and you pulled again. Something rough tore at your wrists. “Sst—ah!”

The scratching stopped. “Ah, you’re awake!”

His footsteps on the cold, hard ground echoed. A smiling, freckled face came before yours, and Olivier tucked away a pair of thin glasses.

“I’ve been re-reading through my research and, ah, apparently it’s best not to begin while you’re still unconscious.” He seemed puzzled by this rule. “But now you’re awake. About time, too. We’ve only got three hours left. But I don’t think this should take long…”

“You dnof—“ Your tongue felt dry. Jawing a bit, you tried again, throat dry as well. “You don’t think what should take long? Olivier…what’s going on? You said…this would lead to the castle…”

“Yes, yes! And it does. Well, part of it. That door over there, in the wall…” He pointed to a small red door in the corner of the room, under his desk. “It leads into a part o’ the castle that hasn’t been touched in years. Foolproof way to get inside, I’d wager. And I’ll let you go through, soon as we’re done here.”

“Done with what, Olivier?” you asked harshly, shuffling back.

Your feet were tied, too.

To wooden posts.

Your back met a cool wooden surface. Horrible thoughts raced to your mind and you looked down to make sure you weren’t naked. You weren’t, but you _were_ in a very familiar red night gown. “Olivier, tell me what’s going on right now.”

“Shh…” He reached out to stroke your face, perhaps with the intention of being comforting, but the touch was much to mechanical, and his smile was forced. “I, ah…you remember, yeah, when I said you wouldn’t owe me anythin’ you’d miss?”

“Tell me straight, Olivier. What’s with the ropes?” You shrank back even more.

“All right. I owe a guy something, and uh, I—I need you to be the one to give it to him.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth, suddenly very nervous, eyebrows drawn. “You want to help me out, right? I’ve done so much for ya. You remember when I told ya to remember all I’ve done for ya?”

You began to rotate your wrists in their binds, loosening them as well as you could. It still wasn’t enough.

Olivier put his smile back on. “I need you to say yes. I need your consent for you to help me out. Ya see…I…I’ve gone beyond my capacity to get you through the labyrinth. I’ve used exhausting amounts of magic and, well, all magic comes with a price…”

“I’ve asked you, Olivier. I’ve asked you a hundred times what your price is. What is it?”

“Okay, look…look. In approximately…nine months, I need you to deliver my payment to a man called Rumpelstiltskin—“

“WHAT?”

“You see, I figured that would be your—“

“You seriously think I’ll let you f—you disgusting li—get away from me!” You butted your head in his direction but he dodged, quickly clapping a firm hand over your mouth. “Mmfh!”

“Now, you see, you’ve made it difficult. I was going to untie you as soon as you agreed…” His smile turned bitter. “I don’t have much of a choice now. Neither of us is going to enjoy this. And…and it’s a shame, because I’ve done plenty enough research ta make this an enjoyable experience for you. If you had said yes. But you didn’t.”

You nearly broke your left foot trying to wrench it free, and once you’d done it you kicked Olivier square in the chest. “Oof! Hey!”

At Olivier’s exclamation, you heard a sudden, startled growl, and then a flurry of barking. Barking, banging, scratching. _Crash._

“What the—“ Olivier went for the metal door. As soon as he approached it, a storm of metallic scrapes filled the air. A click of claws on metal. Another. Before Olivier could move out of the way, the door burst open, knocking him into the wall, and Cocaine leapt forth from the bar handle, Zippo in jaws.

“Oh my gosh! Come here, girl, give that to me! Come here!”

Tail flicking through the air, the dog rushed toward you, climbing over (and scratching up) your bare legs as her wet nose poked and sniffed at your face.

“No—no, give me the lighter. Drop!” you commanded, loosening the rope around your right wrist even more. The dog put her muzzle in your hand but then pulled back playfully. “Do not even. Drop. Drop! Good girl.” You stretched out your freed foot to give the dog a reassuring pet, maneuvering the lighter in your hand. You flicked it open and lit the rope, quickly pulling away before you could be burned. You did the same with your other foot, but didn’t have as much luck with your other hand. “OUCH! Dammit!”

Singed and freed, you hugged the dog to you, partially out of joy and partially out of desire for warmth. “Girl, we gotta get going. Where’s that watch…” On top of the desk. Yes. Grab. Good. Less than three hours.

Olivier groaned, shocking your nerves momentarily as you reached for the small door. It was just big enough for you to crawl through. Once you opened it, you were met with great, bright light. Blinded, you felt for Cocaine to come through to the other side, and closed the door behind you.

“Oh, fantastic.”

Jareth’s sudden presence startled you as your eyes adjusted.

“Jareth?”

He offered you a hand up, hair whipping across his face in the sudden strong wind. Sand stung your bare legs. “Looks as though we’re both trapped here.”

“Trapped?” Your fingers found a puncture in Jareth’s hand. “Oh man, is that where she bit you?”

“It’s fine.”

“It looks kinda bad…”

“It’s only a flesh wound. Now stand up so we can figure this thing out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm this is probably the freakin' weirdest chapter I've ever written ever and I apologize greatly?  
> Just to clear up any confusion...Olivier is asexual. He never had any sexual interest in the reader. It's just...as he said, all magic comes with a price.
> 
> I planned this chapter out a lot differently. But...by this point I wasn't feelin' it. Apologies to the one person (and she knows who she is) who I told about said plan. If you were still anticipating it at all.
> 
> Also  
> idk  
> I feel like I should write more here  
> *shrug*  
> Love you all. Hope you manage to enjoy this a bit?


	13. The Land of Legends

“What exactly are we figuring out?” you asked, walking with him over the white sand, the dog’s fur tickling your heels. “So the door didn’t lead to the castle.”

“No, it does,” said the King, looking out with a sigh. Silvery blue stretched out into mist over a desolate white expanse of sand. You could hear the quiet hush of running water. Misty, bluish mountains rose up in your vision as you turned, bare feet cooled and scratched by the sand beneath them. Oh, that’s right; you’d not had time to change. You wondered if this had anything to do with Jareth’s lack of elaboration, and upon looking back at him, you could confirm the suspicion by his preoccupation with the hem of your nightgown.

“Jareth. Castle.”

“Wh—oh, yes. Uh, this is part of the castle,” he reiterated, turning his eyes to the sky. “It is the root of the castle, to be exact. The Isle of Banishment. Earthy things deemed too magical for exposure to mortals are sent down here through various incantations. This…place is from whence the entire labyrinth draws its magic. Not only from the banished items it contains; the realm itself is magical. And because things are banished here, there is no…simple way out.”

“But there is a way?”

“It’s hidden by a powerful illusion, one that cannot be dissolved simply by the power of the rational human mind. There is an incantation to find the exit, but, ah…” He turned his face entirely away from you, hands clasped behind his back. “I forgot it.”

Fear squeezed your heart at those words, and you glared at the back of Jareth’s head, fists clenched. “Excuse you? We’re stuck in some magical land of banishment, and you forgot the incantation to get out?”

“I-I’m the King! I never once thought I’d actually be banished here!” he defended, striding away from you and wringing his hands. “I’ve been on the throne for centuries, I-I’ve been…I’ve been here since the sacred sword Excalibur was banished here. Not once has my position ever been threatened!” He sighed. “Excepting Olivier, but he can’t do much.”

“He got us both trapped here. How did he get you down here, anyway?”

Jareth slumped, looking completely powerless. “He managed to tamper with my methods of transportation. I tried to come and save you, but as soon as I flashed out I ended up here.”

“You tried to save me?” You toed the sand, watching as Cocaine charged toward a big black speck in the distance.

It summoned all of his humility to confess, but the pretense of superiority melted away from every grief-stricken feature, and he looked ages younger. “Yes. I did. I try to play the trickster, the game-maker. Years of trials have turned me into an inevitable adversary…but it is as I have told you, it’s…it’s difficult! I’m always painted as the villain, but I really do care!”

“Well why _are_ you a bad guy, if you don’t want to hurt me?”

“I’m not a bad--! Just because I’m ‘the bad guy’ does not mean I’m a bad guy. Do you see? I have to do this.” Energy yet depleting, Jareth looked down at the ground with his hands locked behind his back. “I made a deal a long, long time ago. I wanted a world of my own, where I could create anything…anything at all. I could be God. Dammit, if I couldn’t be the King back home as my birthright, I would be a King on my own!” He lifted a hand and waved it over the land. “All this…this is the sort of thing I imagined. You don’t see places like this on Earth. I would have given anything to create something like this. And I did. There was a man I had heard of; Zoso, the Dark One. He had _endless_ magical capabilities. But it didn’t come cheap.” Jareth swallowed hard. His eyes were dark. “I had this wife, you see…and I had to…I…” He pushed out a shaking breath. “Zoso’s thought was that if I wanted a land all to myself, I shouldn’t be able to return to the old world. I was entirely fine with this. But my wife, Amilie…she didn’t like the idea at all. And to cut a long tale short…well, I am here, and I haven’t a wife. And I can’t get out.”

“Why?” you asked. “You got out to take Rachel, didn’t you?”

“Let me explain to you how it works down here,” he said. “All living creatures who enter here can only leave if the are loved. That is what Zoso told me, in perhaps a few more words. True love is the ultimate spellbreaker, as I’m sure you’re aware. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be romantic love. Platonic love can get you out if it’s strong enough! And what does that say about me? I am able, however, to leave this place. Once every thirteen years, for thirteen minutes, long enough to strike a deal but not nearly long enough to gain love. So my plan became this: hold a hostage, and let the heroine come to the rescue…”

“And try to get her to fall in love with you while you had the chance,” you finished. He nodded.

“It isn’t ideal. But it is the only way I can get enough time…as you can see, it never works. Of course it doesn’t. I think…somewhere along the line, I stopped hoping it would, and I stopped fooling myself. I probably have become the villain.” He huffed and closed his eyes, and he turned away from you yet again.

You walked around him, catching his shoulder when he tried to turn more. His eyes were wet, and his nose was puffy and red.

“Don’t. I’m acting…I’m acting childish. Let me alone.”

“Are you crying, Jareth?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He shrugged your hand away. “Hoh, I don’t…I don’t know what’s wrong. All this emotion suddenly flooding into me…”

“Well, have you had a chance to vent about any of this? Ever?”

A glistening tear slid down Jareth’s face. “I’ve never talked about this, no. I-I…”

You couldn’t remember ever being cross with him. He just looked so hopeless. You reached out and wiped away his tear, resting your hand on his cheek. “Jareth…it’s fine to let this out. You don’t have to keep pretending to be the tough guy. It’s okay.”

Despite your words, he tried to contain his emotion, pushing your wrist away. You winced at the pressure on your burn from the lighter. “Tell me what Olivier wanted from you.”

“How do you know he wanted something?”

“Well I knew it from the beginning of his involvement with you,” Jareth sneered. “Clearly you didn’t. He never makes offers to the players; he’s too busy fussing around with his powers in the rest of the Underground.”

“Pardon your attitude,” you snapped. “He uh…wanted…to get me pregnant.”

Jareth’s chest swelled. “It is as I suspected. He isn’t a natural Illusionist. He’s made a deal with the Dark One.”

“So his ability to manipulate what I can see,” you clarified, “he got that from the same guy who gave you your own world?”

“A different one, I believe. I know not his name. He killed the previous Dark One with the dagger--! The dagger!” All life came right back into Jareth. He stooped and shook you by the shoulders. “The dagger! If we get the dagger, we can control the Dark One!”

“Wh--! Let go! What dagger?”

“The dark one’s dagger! Whoever holds it controls the Dark One. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it’s here with other legendary swords.” He began to pace, looking out over the horizon. Cocaine skidded back and forth in the sand, chasing some unseen or nonexistent prey. “I’m not positive, but it is a start. Come along, now.”

He reached back with his wounded hand and you took hold. Off you went, toward the black speck in the distance. “What other legendary swords?”

“Think of any holy or unholy weapon from any piece of literature you’ve ever read. Chances are, it’s been banished here by now.”

“And you know where they are?”

“I banished a few crystal balls down here,” said Jareth. “From what I can gather, all holy swords lie in the Cave of Wonders, which…ah, I believe it’s a long way out.”

“That speck, there?”

“No, that’s…that would be the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.”

You stopped dead and gave Jareth a disbelieving look. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“So this place has been here since the beginning of the earth?”

“Possibly longer,” he said. “And no, it is not Eden. Eden could never be a place so unholy. Up beyond the tree is the cave of Hypnos. Oh…and you should probably call back the dog; we wouldn’t want her to wander into Lethe. It surrounds this place.”

“Are you being serious with me about all of this?”

“Entirely! Do you recall when I mentioned that the labyrinth draws all its power from this place? The cave of Hypnos is what you have to thank for those poppies you froze over.” He gave you a cheeky smile. “It really was a fantastic attempt. I was just one move ahead of you.”

You squeezed his hand. “Bragging to a girl that you’ve beaten her is not the best way to win her over, Jareth.”

“Are you saying I still have a chance?”

You sighed, hating yourself for softening up so much. “After hearing what you’ve been through…well, you’re not the evil one in my book at this point. Olivier, on the other hand.”

“The brat. Though I don’t mind his choice about your wardrobe. I picked that out myself, you know, I’m glad he kept it.” Jareth’s eyes skimmed your body quickly and he looked away with a sense of embarrassment.

“Pervert. Then again…it is kinda nice for walking along the sand.” You walked along a good ways, and had reached the point where Cocaine was skidding in the sand. You called her to your feet, now able to see the spindling outline of a towering, menacing tree. “That still seems like a good distance. Can’t you magic us there?”

“Part of the charm of this place is that it dampens the powers of everything in it,” Jareth mumbled bitterly. “We’ll be walking for awhile. Unless you think you can run?”

With challenge in your eyes, you smirked at the Goblin King, released his hand, and took off at a sprint toward the tree. Before long, however, every breath felt like a kick in the chest, and your head felt squeezed. You weren’t going to give up, of course; until Jareth flashed past you, a blur of color.

“WHAT TH—“ You stumbled to a stop, coughing and wheezing and threatening to fall on your knees. “H-k…oh geez…”

He had stopped a few yards in front of you, hands on his very feminine hips. “I said it dampens my powers; it doesn’t stop them entirely.” The dark tree loomed behind him as you walked out to the spot where he stood. It was, without exception, the biggest tree you had ever imagined seeing, with branches literally disappearing into the clouds, while others scraped the sand, giving the gnarled trunk of the tree the appearance of a caged prisoner. It made you shiver. From each branch hung several large, black-red, pomegranate-shaped fruits; bait to capture the next captive.

Once you reached Jareth you stopped again, legs burning and heavy as lead. You let yourself fall forward into his welcoming arms, pressing your cheek to his silk-clad chest. He squeezed you tight as you beheld the tree, and all its foreboding offerings of fruit. “I can’t…I cannot actually believe this.”

“A bit eerie, isn’t it? The literal root of all evil. Of course, that is if you believe this to be the Tree.” He shrugged. “I’ve had a difficult time finding evidence against it.”

You couldn’t look at it any more; it was too much. It radiated knowledge and power beyond your desire to know. Up ahead to the right, a blockish image stole your attention. It seemed pretty close, even if concealed by fog. “What’s that?”

“That is the Pool of Bethesda,” said Jareth. “The real one.”

“The…?”

“The waters of healing,” he said, raising his injured hand to your sight. “We might make a stop.”

Without thinking, you nodded forward and kissed the bandaged hand. Jareth’s brows furrowed. Slowly, he took your hand to his lips, and kissed the burn on your wrist. You winced, for it stung, and he apologized, letting you go.

Cocaine had apparently found her voice, now barking and growling at the Tree of Life, and you motioned for her to come along.

\--

Crouching on the stone floor, you took Jareth’s harmed hand in yours, taking a breath before the two of you dipped your hands in the restorative waters of Bethesda. Energy fizzed and churned through you and you gasped aloud, as did Jareth. As bad as getting burned had felt, the water felt that good. “Oh…”

“Hmhm. Does it feel all that good?” Innuendo clung to the inflections in Jareth’s voice. You nudged him, pulling your hand up out of the pool to find it completely healed.

“Idiot.”

“Don’t say that. I did lead you here in the first place,” he said. “Without me, you’d be lost. Isn’t that ironic?”

He sat back and wrapped his arms around your stomach, pulling you back between his legs. You let him. “What, the fact that you got me lost in the first place, or just the overall fact that you have an embarrassing amount of control over me in this weirdo maze?”

“Both,” he chuckled. You rested your head on his chest, and he rested his chin on your head, giving you a squeeze. Feeling rather exposed in this delicate nightgown, you closed your legs. “Do you recall that fantasy I gave you?” he whispered.

“I-I can’t forget.” Your voice trembled and you squeezed your thighs tighter together, tugging at the hem of the nightgown. “I’d be lying if…if I said I didn’t enjoy it.”

Jareth’s chest swelled against your back. His arms tightened around you. Then, you felt his warm lips on the top of your head. He kissed down behind your ear and you shivered.

“Jareth…we should…mmh…” Breath growing deep, you reached back and curled your fingers into his blond hair, inadvertently allowing him access to your neck. He kissed and sucked on the exposed skin, causing you to gasp. “Ah! W-we need to…we…”

His gloved hand rested on your thigh, slowly sliding up to the hem of your dress and back down to your knee. With his newly healed hand he skimmed up to your breasts. Before you could tell him no, his hand was down the front of your nightgown. “Nh!”

And then it was back out, holding a silver watch. “I’d wanted to give this a closer look,” he said, taking the hand off your leg and ceasing his kisses upon your neck.

“Oh, come on!” You snatched for it, but he held it up and away.

“Let me look!”

You huffed and allowed it, but after a few minutes of fiddling with the thing he handed it back.

“I figured I could find some way to short-cut this whole ridiculous journey, as this is an Illusionist’s watch…but of course, I can’t understand it at all…” He nudged your back and you stood, helping him up. “Of we go. Where’s the dog?”

“She’ll find us.”

\--

She did find you, and it took a ridiculous amount of time to get to the Cave of Wonders. You stood by Jareth at the tiger-shaped entrance to the cave, expecting some ominous sign. “We just go in?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t the cave…sentient?” you asked. “You know…only the pure of heart may enter or something, touch nothing but the lamp…?”

“That’s all inaccurate folklore,” he said. “Used to convey the virtue of self-control in stead of greed. I know, a bit disenchanting. Onward we go.”

Cocaine pranced right in down a set of sandstone steps, turning to bark at you to let you know it was safe.

At the foot of the stairs, the cave surrounded you with deafening silence. There were no piles of gold, no treasures; everything was stone and cobweb. Ahead, a desolate corridor lead to the promise of a wider opening. “I expected more glamour.”

“As did I,” he said. “Perhaps it actually did hold treasure once, but now…it’s become this.”

Ornate swords hung all over the wall of the circular room, reflecting the magic flames of the torches between them. There must have been at least a hundred swords, and those were just the swords. One stood alone in the center of the room, wedged blade-down into a rock. “Is this Excalibur?”

“Hm?” Jareth looked back at you from his search along the wall. “Oh, no, no. That’s the Sword in the Stone.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“No,” he said. “This one up here is Excalibur. That one is Caladbolg, the rainbow sword.”

“I thought…”

“Disney lied to you,” he chuckled, hands behind his back as he paced. You beheld the weapons, too; the godly, decorated swords, war hammers and battleaxes, each one surely famous, though you didn’t know which one was which. “Ah!” Jareth exclaimed. “The sword of tricksters. Come look,” he beckoned. Before you hung a fairly simple—though sturdy—blade with touches of Celtic design on the hilt. “Hrunting.”

“Wait, from Beowulf?”

“Yes, the same. Its previous owner was a dark and devious direct descendent of Cain. Ah, world history,” Jareth mused. “You know…I can’t seem to find the Dark One’s dagger, so this could be our best chance out. The trickster sword…It has killed dragons, which exist on another plane of reality. It could be powerful enough to tear a hole through the illusion guarding the exit…”

“Fool! You would more likely cut a hole right through space and time!” growled a hard voice. You nearly jumped.

“Who was that?” you demanded.

“Up here on the wall, you half-witted harlot!”

You looked over at Excalibur, but the legendary sword showed no signs that it was capable of speech. “There,” Jareth whispered, pointing up at a very menacing, barely-past-primeval mace with barbed spikes. The thing had a face.

“If you want out, I am surely the only way!” it called. “I am Sharur, the most powerful of all these ridiculous legendary weapons! The mighty Mjolnir pales in comparison to my full powers!”

“Well are you going to talk us to death or are you going to tell us why you’re our only hope?” you scoffed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _It's okay to say you've got a weak spot_  
>  You don't always have to be on top  
>  _You're vulnerable, you're vulnerable_  
>  You are not a robot  
> You're loveable, so loveable  
> But you're just troubled  
> [[link]](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_oMD6-6q5Y)
> 
> So I was playing Sonic and the Black Knight when I decided, "Hmm. One of my stories needs a talking weapon with an attitude problem."  
> So I did some research and [[link]](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sharur_%28mythological_weapon%29)  
> Like, a winged lion. Who comes up with that.  
> I'm legit surprised no anime has exploited this yet I mean  
> Fools. [](http://excalibur-plz.deviantart.com/)[](http://caliburnplz.deviantart.com/)
> 
> Pardon my mythology. I just think it should all get along somehow.  
> There's a lot going on in this. Also, about Hrunting: I studied up on it and well, turns out you can only do so much research on a sword before you begin to research its owner. Before Beowulf, Hrunting was owned by Unferth; and while he isn't a prominent character, he's still pretty interesting. Talented speech-giver, cunning and murderous. Killed his own brother. Pretty sweet.
> 
> Annnyyyyywayyyy. I like comments so I'm gonna say; if you don't comment on the chapter (or even if you do), at least give me a list of video game characters you've been attracted to. Just curious. No judgements here; it takes a lot to weird me out. Of course, if you say Waluigi, we can't be friends.
> 
> Also, I'm leaving for Mexico tomorrow at 12:00 PM PST. No internet access for a week; I will miss you all dearly! But I'm gonna try to get some more fics up before then, likely Hetalia oneshots. <3


	14. An Ambitious Ally

“I could do without your attitude, miss!” raged the spiked weapon. “I was getting there! I am a mighty, most powerful weapon. I need not a wielder; I am my own master. If I left this wretched prison behind me, I could rule the _omniverse!_ ”

“That’s quite ambitious for a mace,” you noted, folding your arms. “How do you think you can do as you claim?”

“I do not think, I know!”

Jareth’s lungs pushed forth an impatient breath and he rolled his eyes, his annoyance very clear to you as the supposedly superior weapon thundered on about his accomplishments. “All right, all right, enough! Clear something up for me; how would you have any power down here? Mm? This realm draws its power from all it imprisons. You might be good for a fair bit of wand-waving, a few parlor tricks, but surely not your full power.”

“You know nothing, foolish king!” shouted Sharur. “All magical weaponry and work of what you label dwarves and elves retain all power down here. And I am the most powerful of them all! Release me, and I might consider breaking you from this prison despite your recalcitrant behavior!”

“If you’re so powerful,” you challenged, “get your own self down. You seem to be a lot of talk.”

Jareth tagged on, a tone of smugness in his voice. “Yes! If you do have as much power as you claim, why haven’t you left yet?”

“I’m _bolted_ to the _wall!_ ” he snarled. “Now get me down so I can show you my true form!”

“And if we don’t?”

The mace narrowed his…eyes? and glared fire. “Then I suppose you can take your chances on your own. I’m sure you’ve got a much better plan.”

Jareth opened his mouth to sass. Then, he recalled why his plan had been proven unintelligent, and shut right back up. “What will you do once you help us get out?”

“What concern is it of yours?”

“You claim you can rule the entire cosmos,” Jareth said. “I sort of live within that jurisdiction. It does concern me.”

“I said I could, not that I will; render thyself calm. When I get out I will simply concern myself with finding a wielder worthy of my power.”

“Hate to break it to you,” you interjected, “but you won’t find many ‘worthy people’ ready to believe in a talking weapon these days.”

“Well, you clearly believe it!”

“Because I’ve seen enough mythical and magical insanity today to last me a lifetime. But hey, if you want to get out and you’re willing to take us with you, I suppose cynicism is something you’ll have to deal with on your own.” Jareth gave you an odd look, and before he could challenge you, you continued. “I’m just so done for today. This is an easy way out. Now how do we get you down?”

“Yes! Finally, some sense!” Sharur rattled a bit in his confines. “I can’t point, but…there’s this lamp.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“What?” he asked with genuine innocence.

You waved a hand. “Never mind. Where is this lamp?”

“Right beside the sword in the stone, you imbecile!”

“Hey! You may insult me as much as you please, but not her,” Jareth snapped. “Now tell us how to get you down. What does this lamp do?”

“Nothing! You open it, get the blasted key, and unlock these bars!”

You heard a huff and a clink and a jangle and watched Jareth free the talking mace. He took it down with a decided lack of care, swinging the heavy weapon a bit.

“Augh, slow down! Too much too fast!” The mace grimaced and Jareth held it upright with an eyebrow raised. “Oh, it feels so good to be free! Let me go.”

“What?”

“Let me go, you insolent fool!”

Jareth relented, releasing the weapon and raising his hands into the air. “Fine, okay!” It sank fast to the floor with a clank.

“OUCH! You didn’t have to drop me so _fast!_ ”

“You said ‘drop’ and so I dropped! The speed of your fall was entirely dictated by gravity!”

“Excuses, excuses! Some king, pshaw. No air of elegance at all! Now back up. Both of you, back up.”

You heeded his warning, catching the defiant Jareth by his arm to take him back with you.

The floor shook once, then again, and one more time, the vibration holding for several seconds of introduction for a hot red light glowing from and soon consuming the ancient mace. Sharur’s glowing shape became a white ball of light, and suddenly all action subsided and there was simply a lion, stretching its golden legs and its great, feathered, brown wings. It was so surreal to suddenly be in the presence of a lion that you weren’t even afraid; you simply dissociated, detached from the situation as in a dream.

He gaped wide and drew an audible breath, releasing it with an undertoned growl as he folded his feathered wings. In a rumbling voice he said, “It has been too long…I am weak…”

Jareth whimpered, then cleared his throat. “W-well you seem perfectly healthy to me”

“I am…so…hungry…”

No you felt a little worried, suddenly aware that your legs were numb. Perhaps it hadn’t been a great idea to let him down. Suddenly the lion seemed a towering monster, with shoulders as high as your head and a tail as strong as a jungle snake.

“W-we had a deal, all right?” Jareth stuttered, trying to keep his voice even. “So you can’t—can’t eat us.”

“I’m not going to eat you, you foolish excuse for a man! I do not eat flesh; I eat souls. And I won’t eat yours. It is too cowardly.” He rolled his great shoulders, wings fluttering and tucking tighter as he strode toward you. He looked up at Jareth with his speckled, giant amber eyes and glared, then regarded you appraisingly. “You look useful. Both of you, follow me outside. I must eat.”

“Where are you going to find souls?” you asked, skeptical and very worried at this point. “I think we’re the only living beings here.”

“The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil exists down here,” he said. “There are souls trapped inside of it.”

“Wait, as in…Adam and Eve’s souls? According to legend, shouldn’t they be…you know…in heaven?”

“Don’t be stupid,” growled Sharur as he led you slowly up the steps of the Cave of Wonders. “It is their son Cain and every sinning son until the abolishment of animal sacrifice. It is the first hell, the place where souls would go if they strove for their creator yet committed evil deeds for which they would not repent.”

You and Jareth both halted your steps and let the information sink in.

“Come on,” urged the lion. “The sooner we get to the tree, the sooner I can fly us out of this prison.”

“Wait,” you instructed, a thought suddenly occurring to you. “Where’d the dog go?”

Jareth shook his head, puzzled. “I…I can’t recall. It seems like she just charged down the stairs and vanished…”

“You are so inattentive!” said Sharur. “She whimpered and left as soon as she saw me speak. If she is that important to you, I can find her, but first we need to get _to the tree._

\---

Upon returning to the tree, you instantly recognized that your mind had downplayed the intense sense of foreboding and despair that you received in its presence. Jareth sensed your unease, taking your hand in his gloved one and giving it a squeeze as the lion marched forth into the dark branches. You clutched Jareth’s hand and leaned closer to him in the silence.

Suddenly an ethereal howl came from the tree, bringing frightened tears to your eyes. It sounded painful, like a tragic beast being torn apart by rusty barbs hooked into its flesh. You closed your eyes, squeezing Jareth’s hand, and he wrapped his arms around you and cradled your head to his chest. You could hear in his heart that he was as unnerved as you.

A series of loud cracks grew louder and louder, and you looked up to see the lion soaring into the sky, with a wingspan that would put shame to an albatross. He climbed higher and higher, then suddenly tucked his wings and dove straight for the ground, parachuting them back out to land with majesty and grace before you and Jareth. You still clung tightly to the Goblin King, heart frantic as you stared up at the beast with wonder. He shook his mane and purred.

“Now, as far as leaving. I know of one entrance into the Labyrinth, and one into the castle itself.” The ground shook with his speech. “The entrance to the Labyrinth is easier to get into. I simply follow Lethe and open the door to the oubliette it enters into.”

“Oh, wait,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your lips together. “You mean both of us knew that Lethe led to the oubliette I was trapped in but neither of us thought of it?”

“I hate myself too,” Jareth seethed.

“Oh, as if you could get there by yourself, anyway. It would take a very water-resistant craft to travel down to the door in the first place, and then how would you escape once the waters flooded the oubliette? Now, the entrance to the castle…it is risky. It would involve me flying shot up into the sky at precisely the right time to slip through the invisible grid keeping us trapped here. There is a possibility that we would all be sliced clean in half.”

“I think we should travel through the oubliette,” Jareth proposed.

“How disappointing…come along, then. Climb onto my back.” He stooped down on bended forelegs, looking at you expectantly from eye level. “Well?”

You looked at Jareth, who shrugged and nodded, and stepped gently on one of Sharur’s paws, fisting your hands into his mane and clambering up onto his back while trying to keep the annoying night dress from revealing too much. He was soft and very, very warm, with plenty of space between his wings for you to lie down without feeling cramped. You resisted the urge to nuzzle his mane.

Jareth took a step toward the lion, but he stood straight. “I need my strength; only the girl for now! I’ll carry you when we get to the river.”

“But--!”

“But he’s wearing heels!” you chuckled, earning a glare from the Goblin King. “In sand. Come on, don’t be cruel.”

“Fine.”

You clung tightly as Sharur knelt once more, allowing Jareth to climb on and wrap his arms around your waist. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Safety restraint,” he justified.

“Uh-huh. Wait, we can’t leave without Cocaine!”

“The canine, yes…” Sharur rolled his shoulders, prompting you to grip onto him more tightly. “I can smell her. Do not let go.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you said.

With a shift of muscle, his wings opened with a _fwhp_ and Sharur charged forward, bounding up and down and making you sink and rise in the most heart-leaping manner. You shut your eyes tight, welcoming Jareth’s tight grip on you, and suddenly a great pressure thrust itself on both you and him, pressing you into the lion’s back as he took off. You labored to take a deep breath, dared yourself to open your eyes to see the speck of a shadow below you.

Quickly, the shadow grew larger, and suddenly you were close to landing, Sharur skimming over the ground at about ten feet. A white ball of fluff came barreling headlong toward the lion with a muffled bark, and a sparkling trinket in its chops. The lion landed, and no sooner had he tucked his wings than Cocaine ran smack into his leg.

“Idiot dog…”

“What’cha got there, Cocaine?” you asked, voice suddenly hoarse and shaky. You realized now that you were shaking, as was Jareth, still holding you tightly. The warmth of his arms bled right through the thin fabric on your stomach.

The dog circled around to you and wagged her tail proudly, holding up a fat golden necklace with a green gem fixed to it. The lion growled low, and the dog’s attention refocused. Her tail stopped wagging and she hunched down, growling back at the lion and barking while keeping a hold on the necklace. The lion’s growls went lower and lower, until finally you could not hear it but feel it. The dog seemed to ease up, though still skeptical, and finally the growling ceased and the dog leapt up onto Sharur’s nose, climbing to the top of his head and between your arms.

You shook your head and pet Cocaine, snuggling her tight between your chest and Sharur’s mane as you leaned forward for flight. Jareth took this opportunity to lie on your back. It was all surprisingly cozy. “Jareth, do you know what this necklace is?” You tried to take it from Cocaine, but she growled and jerked her head away.

“No…I can’t say I do. The only thing I can think of is the Necklace of Harmonia, and it looks nothing like this…”

“Cease your babbling,” commanded the lion. “I am going to fly now.”

“Well, thank you for warning us this time,” you mumbled. Again the lion charged forward, flapped its wings and lifted off, and this time you kept your eyes open for the ascent, though the poor dog whimpered and tucked her muzzle under your arm. You held a protective hand over her head.

Sharur flew on to the very edge of the sand, which was bordered by a wide river and a wall of mist. Here, he descended, following the river at fifty feet above, and then forty, and then thirty. The water was eerily grey, soulless and surprisingly still. Only once and again could you see the faintest ripple of water showing you how fast it was traveling. You shivered, nuzzling your face into the dog’s fluffy neck.

Here, you saw a flaw in the plan. There was a door fast approaching, a large wooden one barely big enough to fit Sharur from head to paw if he tucked up tightly. It wasn’t at all wide enough to accommodate his wings.

“I am going to fold my wings,” he announced, as though sensing your unease. “and we shall break right through the door. I must tuck them at precisely the right moment or we will all plunge into the water of forgetfulness. As soon as I make it to the other side, King of Goblins, I need you to close the door of the oubliette.”

“Right…okay…”

“What do I do?” you asked.

“You hold on to the infernal canine.”

You did so. Sharur flew lower and lower. You could see his reflection in the water, dark and ghost-like. The door got closer and closer and you shut your eyes, holding your breath as the wings hushed closed and the door opened with a deafening _bang._ Jareth’s warmth left you and you heard a cry and the door closed and water rushed down into the oubliette and you opened your eyes and you were all safe, hovering just above the pool of water. You looked back to find Jareth huffing for breath back by Sharur’s hind legs. The poor lion could hardly fit in the room.

“Open the door correctly, Jareth.”

“H-how do you…know so much abh—about my labyrinth?”

“No time. Open it, please. I can’t keep treading air forever.”

“Yes, fine, good.”

Cocaine whined in your arms and you clutched her tight, suddenly exhausted from all the action. You shut your eyes and buried your face in Sharur’s mane, trying to relax your mind as he and Jareth worked on leaving the oubliette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you by Rockstar Energy, Folgers, sleep deprivation, and intense lusting over a fictional angel with a drinking problem.
> 
> I know it's been over a flipping month since the last update. I'm not happy about it, either, and I have no excuses. But hey, six Word pages is nothing to sneeze at! If you'll pardon the cliche. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to clear out this here inbox. Please enjoy.


	15. A Dizzying Descent

A mild dissociation followed you out of the oubliette. You climbed off the winged lion’s back with Jareth’s help, looking up with mild disinterest and only subtle curiosity at the spiraling tower before you. There was no labyrinth anymore, at least where you were; all the walls seemed to have been ripped up by their roots.

Jareth was in a state of furious shock as well as distress, mismatched eyes wide and searching. Sharur made a strained groan and ruffled his wings in discomfort, and the dog yapped continuously at the tower.

“I sense that is not your castle,” Sharur assumed. Jareth nodded.

“Good lord. What has he _done_ to this place?”

“How did you get banished down there?” asked the lion, and Jareth recounted his part of the tale. Your mouth told yours, though your brain did not participate. Your eyes were stuck staring blankly between the large cat and the tower of sparkling brick. Sharur grunted in disapproval. “That is unfortunate luck. However, it does not affect me. I wish you luck in overthrowing this maniac.”

“You’re not even going to try to help?” cried Jareth in indignation, chest puffed out and hands placed divaciously on his hips. “We could have just let you hang there on that wall, you know!”

“And not returned yourselves,” the lion said simply. “I kept my word. Your problems are no longer mine. Good day.”

He stretched out his wings, crouching in preparation to fly, but lowered his head angrily toward Cocaine, who had turned her barking toward him.

He growled and communicated back to her in a strange cross between a bark and a growled meow. Without really realizing it, you reached out to give Jareth’s hand a squeeze as you watched this bizarre exchange. With one final crouch and growl from Sharur, he switched back to English.

“Fine. I will help to restore order to your kingdom,” he said. With a heave of his giant, furry shoulders and a flap of his wings, he was in the air. “I shall start with an inspection of the tower. This could take several minutes. It is best that I do this alone.”

The dog barked and Sharur responded, evoking a whine of complaint from the puffy Eskimo. The large creature ascended. That’s when you felt tears forming, and falling down your cheeks.

You went from numb to shaking, to feeling like you would puke from your chest. With a yelp, you tucked your arms to your chest and leaned into Jareth, who quickly wrapped you up in his arms. Your eyes remained wide open as you cried into his white shirt.

“We just rode a flipping lion out of the Isle of Banishment through a rickety door, how did we survive that?” you moaned.

“Th-there, there,” the King said with a pat on your back. “Oh, darling girl. I know it’s shocking. I am impressed you were able to keep it together this long.”

“He’s a l-lion and he’s got huge wings and he’s a mace and he’s _mean!_ ” you sobbed. You had been through enough today; it was time to let yourself react like a rational human being, for once. “Why is this place so weird?”

“Well, I…because it’s mine.” Jareth’s voice was small; almost embarrassed. He drew the hair away from your face and neck and held you more tightly. “He isn’t, though. He came with the place.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot; this is kind of your land to be free, isn’t it?” You took a breath and relaxed into him. He was warm. He was strong. He was…strangely paternal. Perhaps he wasn’t all that uncomfortable to be around.

“Yes, well…I’m always willing to compromise,” he said, voice a growl and a purr at the same time. “I’ve had things my way for a long, long time.”

You nodded, head dizzy from your sudden outburst of emotion. You began to feel your body again, all at once, including the cold silver watch between your breasts. Tugging on the chain, you pulled it free.

“Jareth…there…there are only two hours left,” you said as your heart began to sink into boiling apprehension.

He chuckled, closing a hand around yours and the watch. “The deal is off, dear…once I regain control of my labyrinth, you can have the child back. And you…you can return home as well.”

What? You pulled back and looked up into his face. He wore a real smile; a sad one with one corner turned up and his eyes praying down to you for your happiness. “Thank you.”

He nodded. At this time, Sharur returned, landing gracefully upon the fractured ground. Cocaine began barking at him immediately but he snarled at her and she ran off, into a distant part of the labyrinth that could possibly still be a maze. “Everything is very confusing. It is like your labyrinth, King of Goblins, but condensed into one tower. I had difficulty making it through, but I found your throne room. It is protected. I do not believe Olivier has touched it yet.”

“Bog sakes…where is the brat?”

“I saw no sign of him.”

“Wait,” you interrupted. “You were barely gone two minutes. What do you mean you had difficulty?”

The lion looked confused. “I do not understand. Two minutes was a long time. Had I not been held up by the puzzles, I would have returned within seconds.”

Your eyes widened and scaled the tower. “So now what?”

“Now,” echoed a loud voice over all the land. A shadow crawled over the ground from behind you, eclipsing the tower. Again you clung to Jareth, eyes searching the sky for the man behind the voice. “I welcome you to _my_ …funhouse!”

Olivier’s voice cackled and the world spun. Jareth seemed to evaporate out of your arms. Sharur’s warm breath discomforted you as he whispered, “Hold onto the end of my tail.” Though confused, you obeyed, and with a heat and vibration you were holding a weighty metal weapon. Your vision checkered. Everything was squares; orange and green and purple. Then everything appeared through a rust-colored filter, and when you screamed you couldn’t hear it, though it tugged at your throat.

\--

You couldn’t remember actually blacking out, but when you regained consciousness you still saw only black. Everything felt cold and rushed and it took you a moment to notice you were falling. “Aah!”

Someone beside you hushed you. You realized the hard mace’s handle in your grasp. “Sharur?”

“Yes. Please keep calm. We are falling up through the floor,” he explained. You thought better than to question this; there was likely no time to explain the physics of this place. “When I say so, you will swing me before you in an arc. Keep swinging until I instruct you to stop.”

“Mm-hmm.”

You waited, heart thrumming loudly in your chest. You could feel yourself falling faster and faster, mind frequently tricked into thinking you saw a flash of light or a definition of brick wall. But when you reached out, there was nothing.  
“Now!”

You swung him forward with as much strength as you could in mid-air, momentum following through. You felt him connect with a hard surface, then felt it give, glass shattering around you. Now there actually were shapes and colors. Hues and gradients, strange heffalump-and-woozle visions. Blobs of color blurred together and suddenly gravity had a definite effect. Your feet landed upon an invisible floor while laughing shapes blurred before your mind, all cobbled like spots on a giraffe. “I said keep swinging!” Sharur roared, and you did, breaking through flash after flash of color. High pitched laughter and moans rocked your ears and soon a ringing filled your head.

Both hands on the handle now, you swung and bashed at everything that came your way. On occasion you would lose footing and fall to an unknown landing, heart nearly rocketing out through your throat. Eventually your heart just gave up on giving you anxiety and focused on pumping blood to the rest of your body in compliance with the present rush of adrenaline. “Rrrah!” Yes, good. Grunting helped you with the follow-through.

The shapes became less blurred. Everything from spiraling purple-and-pink snakes to ghost-like smiling dogs haunted your eyes as you crashed through them like porcelain figures. A ballerina danced toward you, then sprouted spindly, bat-like wings and screeched loud enough to make you go deaf. You wished so badly that you could go back to feeling like you weren’t there, to feeling like everything was a distant dream, but your brain forced you into the moment.

“Ah! Rah-haaaah! Stop! It! Go! A! Way!” you cried, hyperventilating yourself into hysterics. They kept on coming and kept on coming and then finally, a small square of light appeared beneath your feet and you fell. More falling. So much falling. _Too_ much falling.

\--

“Excellent!” Olivier’s voice said in the plain white room. “Not only are you clever, but you have a fair amount of physical and mental endurance.”

“Mental endurance. Yeah, sure,” you rasped, slumping to the ground with Sharur practically cradled in your arms. “I’m going to need lots of therapy once this is all over.”

You heard footsteps and turned around to see a twenty-foot Olivier all dressed in green with a marvelous golden coronet crowning his head. He smirked down at you, leaning on a bulb-headed scepter. “Regardless, you are more than fit to bear a child strong enough to survive this world.”

Your stomach turned. “You’re sick…”

He sighed, shrinking before your eyes. “I don’t make the rules, sweetheart. I need you, don’t you see? So I can keep all of this!”

With a dramatic raise of the arms, he painted the entire room with color. With stars and clouds and sunset, with visible musical staff and notes, with letters and words. One hand called forth an ocean, a hundred yards off at least, and a wave came rushing toward you at an alarming speed. A snap of his fingers and the wave fell, dissipating into a cloud of baby pink butterflies. He lowered his hands and the room was white again, his expression both powerful and wonderstruck. “This is what I worked for. All this time…and all I need is you.”

“I would like to know exactly why that is,” you seethed, rising to your feet. “You had better tell me soon, because you saw how I can use this thing, and you head makes for an excellent target.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I dance around this empty house_  
>  Tear us down  
> Throw you out  
> Screaming down the halls  
> Spinning all around and now we fall
> 
>  _This used to be a funhouse_  
>  But now it's full of evil clowns  
> [[link]](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PiX3f9pcfOg)
> 
>  **di·va·cious** [di- **vey** -sh _uh_ s]  
>  ** _adj._**  
>  characterized by behavior associated with a diva; acting like a diva; particularly sassy  
>  **Related forms  
> **  
>  _di·va·cious·ly,_ adverb  
>  _di·va·cious·ness_ , noun
> 
> I would apologize for all the allusions to my favorite vg but I mean...half of the Loki fic took place in the freakin Underground.


	16. A Deadly Deal

“Tick tock, dearie.”

Olivier spun around, frozen in cold shivers. “Look, I…can I just have an extension?”

“Hmm…Ah don’t think so.” The spindly, dead grey forest well-concealed the leathery-faced man until he skipped down out of a tree, landing gracefully on his feet. “Your ten years are almost up, Lucky. We had a deal. Ye’ve got three hours left to honor it, or I get’cher soul.” A closed-lipped, high laugh punctuated his threat.

“Look…” Olivier stalled, backing away even as the smiling man advanced. “I…I can make it happen, I know that I can, but I need a bit more time…”

“Ye’ve had ten years’ time!” A shrill laugh rang through the forest, burning into a snarl. “Ah think that’s plenty. I need your child, attached umbilical or not, in my possession within a-three hours,” he jingled with a wave of three fingers, “or your powers, your soul, and the whole realm I gave you will be taken away—“

“Oi, ya never gave me this realm you daft pixie! It belonged to _him_ when I got here and it still does!”

“But I gave you the power to change that. So…why haven’t you done it, hmm? Have I wasted my time by giving you all this power?”

“I’ve been…” Olivier wrung his gloved hands, glancing around the forest. “I’ve been putting other things in motion. I actually have planned a takeover, no thanks to you, and it’s taken my entire ten-year trial so forgive me for being a little bit behind schedule with payment!”

“Tick tock, tick tock. Where’s your lovely silver clock?” the strange man sang. “The source of all your powers. Have you wasted it on flowers? Tick tock on the clock of the Underground’s imposter. Tick tock goes the clock, my…I hope you haven’t lossst herrr.”

“I’m handling that,” Olivier insisted. “It’s a token of trust. I…one more day.”

The leathery man crossed his ankles and leaned against a tree, looking on with boredom at the redhead.

“Give me one more day. I can pay you in that time, I swear on me mum.”

“Ohhh, on the Goblin King’s poor dear late sister? I don’t think so.”

“But—“

“You pay me in two hours, fifty-one minutes or your powers are through.” The laughing man turned to walk off, then vanished.

\--

“Let me out!” Jareth hollered again into the empty whiteness, bound by some invisible force and unable to move his arms away from his sides. “God, this is humiliating…I’m supposed to be her rescuer.”

“Well actually, your _Majesty,_ echoed Olivier’s voice, “She’s attempting to be _your_ rescuer. I thought it would be amusing for a change for you to play the part of the stolen child.”

“Show me your face, you smug—“

“Oi, calm down. Keep yer ungodly tight trousers on.” Olivier leaned against an invisible wall and smirked, legs crossed. “Although, I would have enjoyed hearin’ your opinion o’ _my_ puzzles. They run a lot more quickly than yours. If she is very dull-minded, she won’t be able to reach you…as it should be. The labyrinth should be a test of wit, not a test o’… _courage._ ” He sneered on the last word.

“What are you doing to her?”

“Me? Nothin’ a tall!” Olivier said. “But the walls of Level Fifteen are closin’ in around her while she tries to pick the right path over a risin’ lake of lava. Ol’ school, I guess, but it’s so thrillin’. Would you like to see?”

Pushing back with his elbows on whatever it was he was bound to, Jareth kicked his legs out, missing the chuckling ginger by several inches. He tried again, quickly out of breath, and with a careless wave of the hand Olivier had bound his legs as well. “You had better not harm her.”

“Oh, no, I need her alive. O’ course, if this does kill her, it still works in my favor. It means that my fortress is now impregnable, and no one can get to me.” True hope and relief filled his eyes. “But if it fails, I’ll need her alive, and I’ll be her last obstacle before she can have ya.”

“You’re sick.”

“No, I’m desperate. Let’s be completely honest here: there is no pride in desperation. But it can be surprisingly empowering.” He chuckled, smirking at the helpless Goblin King. “I mean, it got you what _you_ wanted, isn’t that right? Dear uncle?”

“My desperation cost me everything and I try in vain desperation to get it back. It is by no means empowering. It merely gives one an illusion of power.”

“But illusions themselves are powerful things,” Olivier countered. He snapped his fingers and vanished, and in the same instant Jareth was overwhelmed by heat and a stifling sense of claustrophobia. After the initial dizziness, Jareth found himself watching you try and nearly fail at this speed-based puzzle.

He cried out but you did not acknowledge him, and as much as he strained at the nothingness binding him he could not make it budge. You trod carefully from floating square stone to floating square stone, and in his eyes, you rose. A searing heat enveloped his feet and he looked down to see he was sinking down into the molten rock. “AhhAAAAaaAh!” Ashes filled his mouth and lungs and eyes. Every part of him burned. Fear and anger squeezed in his chest—

And then all of it was gone. The physical pain, the sense of dying, and it was unbearably bright.

“How…did I get back here?” he choked out in wonder.

Olivier reappeared beside him. “I told you. Illusions are powerful.”

“What--! I…”

“Strange. I had never considered using it as a torture device. Hmm. Good to know I am at least capable.”


	17. The Top of the Tower

This was _not_ what you had _freaking_ signed up for. Sweating, tired, and sore, you waited as the defeated puzzle faded into darkness around you. Sharur hung heavy in your arm, silent for a long time now. There would be only a brief moment of repose before the next puzzle began. You felt beaten, fatigued. Your head buzzed. When you opened your eyes, wondering when exactly you had closed them, the scene discombobulated you more than had any of the others. The room…space…area was just black, and what looked like a rainbow rollercoaster twisted into the darkness. It plunged down, down, down, further down than you could fathom, and stretched high, high up. But everything was pixilated, blurred. You kept blinking and rubbing your eyes and waiting for it to come into focus but it wouldn’t.

“What kind of puzzle is this?” you screamed. You were so _done_ with this crap! “Olivier, this is ridiculous! Just let me out!”

Something responded but it was not Olivier. It was an echoed shout, much like a small…dog…

“Cocaine?” She galloped toward you, a white little puff of hope suspended in the air. Her bark was muffled, a long brown rope in her mouth. “What’cha got there?”

As she came closer you could see it was a vine from the labyrinth. You accepted it, definitely puzzled as to how she had gotten here, but then realized that asking would yield no comprehensible response. She nudged her nose at the vine, turned tail and trotted forward, then tossed her head back to you and yapped.

“What? I don’t speak dog. What is it?”

Again she nudged the vine, tugging at it with her teeth. Just as you had come to the correct conclusion, Sharur finally spoke up. “For God’s sake—she wants you to put it on her like a leash.”

“Bout time you started talking,” you snapped, looping the leash around the dog. She wagged her tail happily, licking your arms and face. “Oof—stop that!”

“Excuse you, I was paralyzed for a long time and it was quite stressful!” Sharur explained. “I tried to change my form but suddenly I could not move a thing! It was as though I was a regular mace…I would shudder but only flesh has that ability.”

“Raouh, raouh!” interrupted the fuzz ball at the end of your rope as she tugged forward with all her might.

“But I can’t see the—“

“Oh just shut up and follow the beast! And hold onto me tightly!” Sharur complained. You picked him up again from by your feet and held tightly, trusting the curious little dog to guide you on some invisible path.

She shot forward and you followed, stomach churning as you looked down at the plummeting path below you. You wondered how wide or thin the path was that had you suspended in the air.

Something curious happened when you shook your head to clear it; everything blurred, like at the beginning of the labyrinth. Everything blurred, and you could see only white, like a room. White bricks. You shook your head again. A winding hallway. “It’s all an illusion?”

“Oi! What’d’you think you’re doing?” Olivier’s voice rang, frantic. The rainbow road changed and you were in the lava room again. The heat latched onto your fear and you faltered, feeling yourself sinking into the hot, molten rock. The pain nearly stopped your heart, but the dog pulled you forward and you shook your head, watching it blur out as you ran. “You li’l—“

The scene changed again. He tried to literally trip you, a room full of nothing but tendrils and tentacles and vines grabbing at you. “Knock it off!” you demanded, true rage filling your chest. “This is ridiculous!” And then, without having to distort your vision, you were in the white room again, all illusion gone. “What th…”

And it was back again.

You kept running, blindly following the dog. You would close your eyes for periods at a time, quickly dizzying. Your legs detected an incline and you opened your eyes, running through yet another chamber of illusions and lies. Something smacked you from behind. “Stop!”

In your anger you again saw clearly.

But you couldn’t keep it up for long. It was up to this annoying little dog now. She was saving your life, again.

By the end of what felt like a half an hour, your chest burned and your legs felt like water. Your stomach growled. The red nightgown clung to your sweaty body. Gross.

Cocaine had stopped but you couldn’t see why. It looked like the middle of the white hallway. “Why’d we stop, girl?”

Tongue out and panting, she gave you a few tired barks, turning and sitting pretty. Sharur offered translation. “Because this is the end. I can’t see it, however…”

Another illusion. Of course.

Jareth’s voice called your name with hope and confusion. “Is that you? Where are you, I can’t see you.”

“Jareth! Cocaine, where is he? Where’s Jareth?”

The dog licked at what appeared to be the wall. She passed through it, continuing to lick, and Jareth’s tired laughter filled the stale air. You followed the dog into the wall, finding Jareth on the other side, restrained by what seemed like nothing. When you turned around the wall was no longer there, but you didn’t try to puzzle it out; you simply dropped Sharur on his head (“Ow! You disrespectful little brat!”) and hugged Jareth, deflated by relief. He winced and groaned, chest heaving. His skin was damp, too.

“What happened? What did Olivier do to you?”

“Only terrifying psychological torture,” he croaked. “And to an extent, physiological. I feel as though I’ve been burned and frozen a thousand times.”

His voice broke your heart. And it evoked anger. And once you were angry, you could see the leather bindings restraining Jareth. You could see a window and you could see out of the top of the tower, down upon a destroyed, uprooted labyrinth. When wonder seized you, you could no longer see it.

“Jareth,” you said, “I think I know how to see through his illusions. He can’t control our minds while they are controlled by primitive emotions. Like anger.”

“Anger? Well I am pretty angry right now, and I can’t see a thing,” he growled. He blinked. “Whoa…wait, it’s gone…”

“I think you were just afraid before, not angry. Here, I’m going to help you out of this…”

You held onto every annoying thing that had happened since you had come to the labyrinth. All your anger at Jareth came out again, doubled by your hatred of what Olivier had put you through. The restraints became clear again and so did a table with tools and keys. No, one key. The key to the locks on Jareth’s restraints. Things began to fade. You remembered the room you had woken up in, when _you_ had been the one restrained. When you had been nearly violated by someone you thought was trying to help you.

“What’re you doing, love?”

“I’m not your love, get away from me!” you shouted back at Olivier. The sound of footsteps. Anger. Jareth was almost free. Almost free.

You felt a hand on your shoulder. _Click._ “Jareth, run!” you shouted, quickly swinging your arm back and digging your elbow into Olivier’s abdomen.

“Mmnf! Hrmmm.” He glared, clutching his stomach, and reached out for your hands. You kneed at his groin but he blocked it with his thigh, pulling you into him. He turned you around so your back was at his chest. The key was curled up in your palm. You freed it as best you could and jammed it into his, but you couldn’t get free before his other arm circled around and seized your wrist. Your arms were crossed over your chest. In the same instant, you stomped on his foot and pinched the crook of his elbow, hard. He yelped, nearly throwing you across the room.

You saw Jareth come up behind him, wielding Sharur with angry passion in his eyes. He swung the mace but hit the air, confused and dizzied for a moment. Olivier reappeared behind you again.

“Just give me the girl, Jareth. Let me have the girl and I’ll give you your damn labyrinth back.”

“I can’t accept that deal,” Jareth growled. “I want the girl.”

Again you lashed out, elbow flying at Olivier’s collarbone. You dug into him again and again, slamming your head back into his nose. “OUNF!”

He screamed into your ear and you looked down to see a little ball of puff and rage latched to his ankle by the teeth. “Good girl!”

Jareth dropped Sharur again, skirted forward and grabbed Olivier by the hair. He pulled back, pressed his fingers into a pressure point on his shoulder, and Olivier was down. He dropped from you, arms slacking and letting you free. You panted, tired out from the sudden rush of adrenaline, and Jareth looked on the verge of tears.

“Hey…hey, Jareth, we won,” you said sweetly, cupping his face in your hands. “Jareth, we did great.”

“He did such horrible things to me…” he sobbed, blushing with shame at displaying such weakness.

“It’s over,” you assured him. Behind him Sharur transformed into his lion form and he and the dog growled and barked back and forth. It made you stupidly happy to watch the exchange and in the course of such emotion, you found your lips on Jareth’s. He kissed back desperately, and when the kiss broke he held you tightly, burying his face into your neck.

“You rescued me,” he breathed.

“Yes, all well and good. I suggest we get out of here and back to Jareth’s castle,” Sharur said, stalking toward you. “Climb onto my back. I will take the _vermin_ in my claws.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are at least two references here.  
> May or may not have internet for the next week. Hope you enjoy! Sorry I haven't been very social with you guys lately. I really do care, it's just  
> I dunno  
> Tired?


	18. The Petite Prince

Cocaine stared calmly at you with big dark eyes, muzzle half-buried in Sharur’s mane. Her body heaved a sigh and her eyes closed, a display almost of human relief. You reached out and scratched her between her pointy white ears, letting your fingers grow warm in her fur.

You felt Jareth’s chest press against your back and his breath tickle your ear when he whispered, “May I hold you?”

Cold, you nodded eagerly, physically pulling one of his arms around your waist. He chuckled and wrapped the other one around you, holding you gently but securely. “Poor Rachel,” he said. “I wonder what he’s done to her…”

“It makes my stomach turn,” you admitted. “She doesn’t deserve to be tied up in this.”

The air pushed back from the rise and heavy fall of Sharur’s wings nearly froze you. You snuggled back into Jareth, who held you more tightly. His gravity-defying hair tickled your ear and your jawbone and you swatted it back, turning your head, and kissed his cheekbone.

Jareth’s castle came into view. Many, many bricks were missing, and entire turrets. But Jareth’s throne room had remained entirely in tact. He gave a relieved sigh, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Thank goodness she’s safe. I…hope…”

The hand you hadn’t buried in the dog’s fur wrapped itself around Jareth’s fingers and squeezed.

Sharur touched down on the top of the castle, behind a turret that was still in tact. You and Jareth got down, but Cocaine stayed up top, still a sleeping patch of white among Sharur’s straw-colored mane. “I will stay outside,” the lion offered. “And I will watch the little beast. As well as the dog.”

He pawed at Olivier, whom he had just set down, then stalked around him, lying down to surround him. Confident that your prisoner would be safely guarded by a gigantic lion, Jareth lead you into the castle, into the throne room. As soon as the doors swung open, Jareth tackled you to the ground, and you heard the woosh and distant clatter of heavy objects being thrown, along with the incessant babbling of very enthusiastic goblins.

“Hey! Cut it out! That is your king!” commanded the loud voice of Rachel.

You propped yourself up on your forearms, Jareth still protecting you with his whole body, and looked up. The goblins parted and Rachel strode forth, donning a crown crafted from glittery vines and wielding a matching “scepter.”

“As your prince I command you ta knock it off!”

The goblins scrambled back and Jareth mumbled an apology as he stood up, offering you a hand. “Rachel?”

“Prince Rachel,” the child corrected.

“What…what on earth have…are you all right?” you stammered, looking around the room which was all rigged up with traps reminiscent of Home Alone. “What’s going on?”

“Well, when Jareth left,” Rachel said, climbing up into Jareth’s chair and lounging in it like he did, “he told the goblins to take care of me. But they don’t seem to follow not-very-specific orders. They need to be told details! So I had them help make this place bad-guy proof. I even made an emergency pillow fort in case all my traps didn’t work; it’s behind that wall over there.” A chubby little finger pointed at the far wall.

Jareth stared, slack-jawed, at the self-proclaimed prince. “But…a-all right, fine. You’re prince of the castle. But that is the king’s throne.” He removed Prince Rachel, who pouted, and reclaimed his throne, winking at you and patting a hand on his thigh.

“Uh, no,” you said, taking a seat criss-crossed on the floor. The little prince, clearly feeling safe and worry-free now, ducked away into the hidden pillow fort.

“C’mon, the kid’s gone now,” he whispered, begging evident in his eyes. “Pleeeease?”

With a chuckle, you stood up and walked over to his throne, straddling his lap and eyeing him flirtatiously while you settled down. “So. What do we do with Olivier?”

“Bog,” Jareth said simply.

“What?”

“The Bog of Eternal Stench?” he explained with raised eyebrow. “He sets foot in there once and he’ll stink to high heaven for the rest of is life.”

You gave him a blank look. “That’s all you’ve got? You sound like a bad Disney Channel villain.” He winced, holding up a finger to protest, but you put a finger against his lips. “No. So…why…not banish him to the one place or something? I am personally a huge fan of that idea. He did get us stuck there first.”

“Hm…yes, I suppose…Here, give me that fobwatch,” he said whilst already reaching for it.

You removed the chain from your neck. “Why?”

“Did you ever wonder why he could so readily reach you, even in the dream I had invented for you?”

“Uh, not really. Since it was kind of normal for you to drop in all the time.”

He chuckled, puzzling at the fobwatch but not seeming to know what to do with it. “I wonder…there is a special bond with magical objects and their masters. The more profound bonds allow for the master to call upon it and come to it through even the strictest barriers.”

“So as long as I have this, he can get to me,” you clarified. “That’s really creepy. We should destroy it, then.”

“Noooo!” came a muffled cry from the hidden pillow fort. Prince Rachel tumbled out, clutching Jareth’s crystal ball. “That thing holds all of his powers and if you destroy it then all his powers…they…go up in the air and you can’t collect them! And ‘cause then he has less control of his powers but you have none.”

Jareth sat up, shifting under you. “What?”

Rachel huffed, brown eyes glaring in irritation. “I just told you. Ugh. I saw it in the crystal ball,” with attitude pushing down on every other word, “when Ol’ver was talkin’ to this one really weird guy. And they said all this things, and basically…ugh. Just don’t destroy it, okay? It has all Ol’ver’s power…and right now you have control of all of his power.”

“I believe I understand,” said Jareth. “The Dark One. I knew it. So then, tell me, little prince,” Jareth sneered, an eyebrow arched, “What do _you_ propose we do?”

“Well I think,” you said, snatching up the watch again, “that we should banish _it_ and him. That way, his one hope of escape is right there in his hands and it’s useless. Like having a key in your hands on the wrong side of a locked door.”

Jareth’s mismatched eyes stared at you in wonder, one gloved hand closing around yours and the locket. “That is positively villainous. I love it.”

“And what’s your opinion on the matter, kiddo?”

“I say yes that’s a very good idea.”

“Then,” you said, turning to Jareth again, “what do we do about the Dark One?”

“Nothing.” Jareth’s voice darkened dramatically. “You don’t do anything about the Dark One. The best thing to do is not to get involved with him whatsoever. He is a nemesis who has nothing to do with our current situation…except…”

“Except…he’s the reason,” you said, “that Olivier wants anything to do with me. Jareth…the Dark One is involved in this.”

“ _Bogdammit._ ”

The cold chain grew warm in your fingers as you twirled it around them, letting the metal links constrict and squeeze them. “But is he on our side, then?”

“Well…he owes something. Clearly for his power which is in that locket. But the Dark One does not take sides with anyone, he only does what is in his best interest. We can’t know what that is. If he decides that kidnapping you is in his best interest, then that’s what he’ll do.”

“Great, so now what? We have no plan whatever?” The stupid watch. You threw it to the ground (gently, so as not to break it) and pouted, leaning into Jareth’s chest. “I’m done with this crap. Can we just go home?”

The back of your scalp crept with pleasant sensation as his fingers combed through your hair. Within a comfortable, calm stretch of silence, Rachel retired to the pillow fort once more, leaving you alone in Jareth’s arms. Well, alone except for the ruckus of the goblins on the other side of the room. “Well…you can, actually. There’s no reason for you to stay here…this is my problem now…”

“What?”

“Well do you want to go home or not?”

Of course you didn’t get to answer, because just after you had gotten over your initial hesitation, Cocaine’s wild barking could be heard loud and clear through the stone walls. It got quickly louder until she skidded into the room, a fluffy ball of anger as she charged forward and chomped a goblin’s head between her teeth.

“You get him out of your teeth, you demon!” Jareth demanded, tensing up and readying to bolt from his throne whether you were in his lap or not. You flew to the floor of your own accord and wrapped your arms around the writhing dog, who continued to bark even with a stuffed mouth.

“Coke! Cocaine! Drop! _Drop!_ ”

At first it seemed like she had given up the game, until she snatched the silver fobwatch out of the warted hands of the goblin and charged again down the hall.

“What in the _world—_ ” Jareth started, stumbling down from his throne and straight into Olivier. “What--!”

Olivier glowered, snatching you by the wrists and pushing you toward Jareth to knock him over. The goblin Cocaine had captured was nowhere in sight, and Olivier bolted down the hall. “Kiiing, Kiiing!” one of the goblins squeaked. “That man was a goblin, ah seen it! He done growed!”

“More illusions,” Jareth growled, standing upright. “That damned—“

You were so ready to magic down that hallway with him when Sharur returned with the now-unconscious, green-clad man in his teeth, and a leathery-looking man on his back.

“Ah,” said the grey man, “I can see you’re just…mm…getting settled. My, it has been a busy day for _ev_ eryone! We will all wait outside until you are ready. I can’t do much until he’s woken back up.”

Sharur rolled his eyes and turned, and with a flick of the hand the strange man shut the doors.

“Was that…the Dark One?” you asked.

“Yes.”

“Not that I’m really complaining, but he doesn’t seem all that menacing.” You sighed and relaxed, brushing your hair back with your fingers. “I think it’s time I got out of this night gown. Have any clothes that would fit me?”

Jareth went from confused to ridiculously excited in less than a second.


	19. To Muddle the Mind

“I think I actually prefer the night gown,” you mumbled, puzzled at your reflection in the framed mirror. His vast variety of tights fit you surprisingly well, and you had picked simple black ones that felt just heavenly on your legs. Above that you wore an electric blue shirt that fit like a vest, with puffy sleeves that had tight cuffs, allowing the ends to puff up like giant raindrops. The neckline and hem were bordered with sparkles, and one small pocket above your left breast had the effect of being full to the brim with sparkles that they poured from the edges. He had boots that fit you, half-calf silver boots with a sensible amount of traction. They had cuffs, however, that were so bejeweled and embroidered that they might have weighed a good five pounds.

“I think it looks gorgeous on you,” he said, gazing at you in the mirror over your shoulder.

“Well I…you think?”

“Not really,” he said, pulling back a smirk from his face as he turned his back on you, hands locked behind his back.

“W-wait but you just—“

“I don’t _think_ you look gorgeous. It’s more of a fact, and I don’t mean to flatter.” He tossed a look back over his shoulder, giving you a toothy half-grin. “I honestly think that it is inarguable how stunning you look right now.”

You blushed, feeling your cheeks lift as you smiled automatically. “O-okay, enough flirting. I don’t know about you, but I really want to know what that…Dark One has to say.”

“Rumpelstiltskin.”

“What?”

“Rumpelstiltskin. That’s his name.”

“Like in the fairytale?”

“Oh, no no, dear,” said the Goblin King, returning to your side in the mirror and looking down on you with half-lidded eyes and a warning frown. “He’s far worse than in the fairytale. And I’m not flirting.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I—“

“You’re still doing it. Jareth, you are a flirt. It is what you are.”

He opened up his mouth to protest but with one last flip of your hair, you turned your back on him and left the room. “Shall we, O Flirtatious One?”

“I do not flirt!”

“Mm.”

He followed you and grabbed your arm. “Wait. You need to take this to heart. Rumpelstiltskin is not just a trickster. He is not just cunning. He is clever. He will make you feel like you’re winning, but everything he does is for himself alone. Every deal he makes…it’s all for his own good. You need to remember that.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because he knows you don’t know it,” he warned. “He isn’t going to talk to me. He’s going to want to talk to you. Please…I know that to you my character is questionable at best, but you must listen to this and trust me. Stay on your guard.”

It was his sincerity that shook you, or perhaps it was the unspoken passing of the crown. You were to be the diplomat in this situation. You were to take charge. Every responsibility was on you.

Waiting on the roof were Sharur, paws now bound to one another by shackles, with Olivier at his front paws seemingly bound by some invisible force and unable to open his mouth. Sharur’s large amber eyes looked sorry, looked reluctant, and you couldn’t tell what was wrong.

“Now. You two are in great luck. Allow me to introduce myself as your savior,” said the Dark One, all smiles and a bright voice.

“We do not need your help,” Jareth growled. “We can take care of the illusionist.”

“I’m not talking to you, Jareth. You know that. Now zip.” Another flick of that stupid wrist and Jareth clammed up just like Olivier. “You see, this offer is for her. If she doesn’t want to hear my offer, that’s her decision. But you wouldn’t dare make it for her, now would you? I’ve seen her wrath. It would be a very ill-witted move to try and tell her what to do.”

He was offering you the chance to decline. If he’s willing to bypass giving you his offer, that means he’s got another plan, doesn’t it? “All right…what’ve you got?”

“I’ll take him…off ya hands. For a small price, very small; just the fobwatch, from you, dear. And ill even give you back your freedom, and your child.”

“That’s all? Just the watch?”

“It’s of no value to you, dearie. You can’t even operate the thing.”

“Mfh!” came a noise in Sharur’s direction, and each of you looked at Olivier. His eyes were wide and focused meaningfully on you as he lowered his chin, asking if you understood, but you couldn’t. An almost imperceptible head shake, and then Rumpelstiltskin, with an irritated look, pressed his boot to Olivier’s back and forced him to lie on the cold stone ground.

“Yes. You’ll be rid of this pest. All I need is the watch.”

There was another thing he was asking for, you knew it. “But of course you want me to give you Jareth’s kingdom, right?”

“Ah that’s not yours to give,” he said with a high-pitched giggle and a small bounce on the soles of his feet. “No, I have a different payment I’ll be accepting from Jareth. He knows exactly what that is, and it’s none of your concern.”

“It is of my concern.”

“Really, deary? How so? You two are no longer affiliated; his little game has ended. He is allowing you to return home.”

You looked over at the Goblin King, whose shoulders were lowered, eyes were lowered. That was his price. You were his price. If you left, he couldn’t have you, and he’d be lonely again.

His price is to retain control of the kingdom, for eternity, lonely for the love of another.

And why should this matter to the dark one? Perhaps another trade. He would plan to make a deal with Jareth and he would be patient. No, this moment was not about patience. There was something else he needed.

“Would you hand over Olivier so I can deal with him?”

The snakelike man’s smile faltered. “You wouldn’t want that, deary.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t.”

“Don’t get smart with me, lovey, I know what’s best. As another magical being, I know how to deal with this one. This isn’t about me, it’s about you. Now do we have a deal or not? Will you hand over the watch or shall I set him free?”

You didn’t see any other options here. You were one person, in one space, with no plan and no help from your king. Wishing you were gone, wishing you didn’t have to make this decision, you clutched the watch nervously. Would it be worth it, in the end? What would he do to Olivier, what were his plans? You couldn’t know! You’d only learned of all this stuff less than a day ago! There was nothing. No plan. None of your own and none you could decipher from this higher magical being.

If only you had thought something up earlier. Your mind shut you off from reality, for a second, and came up with attack plans. Defense plans. Any plans. What if Jareth could buy you time to get to one of those crystal balls to trap him in? could you do that with a crystal ball, or were they just for illusion…what if you managed to get everyone out of there somehow? What if? What would you do then? You didn’t know how much power the Dark One had. If only you were anywhere but here. If only Jareth could at least give you a hint as to what to—

And Jareth said your name. Shouted it. You looked up, blinking because now everything was a bit blurred, a bit surreal. Everyone was looking toward the window of Jareth’s throne room. Their voices were distant; Rumpelstiltskin was awed and outraged, Sharur looked startled, and Jareth was almost adorably puzzled.

You followed their line of site—and there you were in the window, sitting on the edge of it! How were you in two places?

The realization suddenly hit you that it was the magic of the watch. You had created an illusion.

They couldn’t see you.

All right! What could you get away with, now you were invisible? You looked down at yourself. You were translucent.

Sharur, Sharur could help. It wasn’t until you got closer to him that you realized his wings were bound as well, roped down to his body. It looked painful. You couldn’t illusion away the shackles but you could untie the ropes. Sharur stiffened the moment he felt your hands but you hushed into his ear, “It’s me. I’m using the watch. I’m going to free your wings so you can fly.”

He stayed still while you untied the ropes. During this time, Jareth made a run for the castle and Rumpelstiltskin magicked him to the ground. The You in the window did nothing, and you imagined her going back inside and out of site. She did, and it caused quite a panic between the two immortals. Jareth’s scepter appeared. Rumpel disappeared. They fought in a combination of magic and melee and all this time, you were tugging away at Sharur’s ropes. Olivier still was bound, and when he tried to get away Sharur would bite his shoulder.

Olivier looked back at you. He knew where you were.

And as soon as Sharur flexed his wings, Rumpel knew, too. In the heat of his and Jareth’s fight, and when the leather-skinned Dark One made an advance on you, you booked it for the throne room. Not for any particular object, but to make sure Rumpelstiltskin didn’t notice the missing ropes.

You had barely made it two yards before a hand was on your throat and you were gasping for breath. “I’ll take that,” he said calmly, tearing the watch out of your arms. Out of the corner of your eye you could see bars forming around Jareth, caging him.

“Let go of her!” he shouted frantically, pounding at the bars.

“I feel you trying to use magic, Jareth, and it won’t work,” he said. “I should warn you that the more you use, the more of it I will absorb. Mhmhm. Isn’t it infuriating to be in a position that requires nothing more than brute strength?”

And that was Sharur’s cue. He struggled up into the air, dive-bombing onto the cage. It did nothing but hurt him, and from there you couldn’t see much because your vision was beginning to go. You wanted him to just finish choking you already, put you out of your misery.

And then something miraculous happened: he let go. Not completely, but just enough for you to gasp for a lungful of air. You didn’t have time to think. You just reached, instinctively, hands clasping around something cold and metallic. You wished he would let go of you. Quickly, like he had been stabbed or burned—

The watch quickly heated up and Rumpelstiltskin did let go of you with a shout. Your brain was clear. Jareth was free. He unchained the lion, who pummeled the Dark One to the ground, and you watched all this while hunched over with a hacking cough.

Jareth was outraged to the point where his face nearly glowed red. His fists were clenched, his jaw was set, and he stepped on Rumpelstiltskin’s throat, kneeling down. “You do not get to harm the things I love.”

Though your airway was free and clear, you found it hard to breathe upon hearing those words. He looked up and back at you, holding out his hand. “You did very well, love…may I have the watch?”

“No. Not within his reach.”

Jareth nodded, dropping his hand, taking his foot from the Dark One’s throat. “Now you. I have got all the plans in the world for you. I’ll take away everything that means anything to you. You’re at my mercy now, you vile one, just as twisted as your predecessor. I’ll torture you within an inch of your life, I’ll—“

“Jareth!” You stared him down. He looked back at you again and then dropped his eyes.

“Well I suppose I’ll come to that sentence later. As for you, illusionist,” he addressed Olivier, “You’re going back to you rightful home, working in the mines, a lowly, poor excuse for a man with no power—“

“No!” he gasped, seemingly startled he could talk again. He was unbound as well. “Lest’n, I know it’s what I deserve but if ya leave me alive with him in the world, I’m doomed. Send…send me away, me an’ the watch. Somewhere he can’t get us. I never wanted no trouble, I just wanted…I just wanted to be a god. I didn’t want to hurt anybody.”

“But you did.”

“Jareth,” you said again, a hand on his arm. “Banish them.”

“What?”

“Banish the watch—“

“And this coward?”

“No,” you said. “Banish the watch, and banish Rumpelstiltskin.”

“He wanted the watch.”

“He wanted the watch and Olivier,” you pointed out. “Is that how it works, Olivier? The watch only works in your presence.”

He nodded. “It’s my soul what powers it.”

“It’ll be the cruelest irony, Jareth,” you said, watching his face for a sign of approval. “Banish him with half the key to get out. Leave Olivier to his deserved fate, with his soul still intact...”

He smirked, peeking at you out of the corner of his eye. “I like it.”

“What!” Olivier shouted with indignation, and you could see him struggling to think up some sort of illusion to trap you, but Jareth pressed three fingers into specific points on his shoulder and down the redhead went, unconscious on the ground.

You raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“Did you just knock him out with a hand?”

He nodded, kneeling beside Rumpelstiltskin and performing the same action. “It’s quite a useful technique if I can get in close enough.”

“Fascinating. Why didn’t you do it sooner?”

“I had quite forgotten I was even capable,” he apologized. “And now I’ll need to banish the watch and the Dark One, send you and the child back home…everything will be as it should be. Sharur, bring them to my throne room.”

The lion rolled his eyes, muttering something about not being a lapdog, and carried out the king’s request anyway. Jareth held his hands behind his back and walked forward, nodding at you to come along with a somber expression.

“Jareth…if you need me to, I’ll…I’ll stay with you.”

His eyebrows rose in hope. “N-no, I don’t want your pity. You need to return with the child and—“

“It’s not pity. It’s out of love.”

You almost thought he was unphased by such a confession. But then you saw the tears in his eyes.


	20. Finally Freed

“You can’t say that,” he said quietly after entering the throne room and standing there silently for several minutes. He had dealt with Rumpelstiltskin in a separate room.  
“What?”  
“You can’t just…out of love?” He practically scoffed. “What is it you really want from me?”  
“Jareth.” You harshened your voice so he would look at you. “Don’t you tell me what I feel or don’t feel. The only thing I want is for Rachel to get home safely, and…to stay with you. Because we’ve been through too much together for me to just leave.”  
“And that’s what you call love?” he said, mockingly.  
“Understanding each other? Yes. What’s your definition, then?”  
That stunned him into silence.  
He walked over to his throne where you sat and wrapped his arms around you. “I am so sorry. I just—I didn’t expect—nobody has ever loved me. Nobody has tried to understand me, though I know there isn’t much to understand…forgive me for not trusting your words.”  
“It’s all right, I understand. There’s nothing to forgive.”  
His arms tightened and you were reminded of a child run to his mother for comfort. So there was a mildly awkward moment of reaching up to pat his head, and he actually broke into tears.  
“Jareth…”  
“I’m free,” he whispered.  
“What?”  
“Do you remember what I told you?” he asked, breaking the embrace with his hands on your shoulders. “You freed me, I can leave…I can leave here and I don’t ever have to come back.”  
“But your kingdom…”  
“Oh to bog with it,” he said, absolute glee in his features. “What am I even king of? A bunch of messy, noisy little beasts who can’t even do things they are explicitly told to do. I’m…I’m free. Don’t you see? I can go anyplace, rule an entire world full of actual real-live people. I don’t need a shabby kingdom full of puzzles and tricks and madness. And you will be my queen—no, my empress.”  
“Em-empress? I don’t know how to rule…I only just got the hang of babysitting,” you protested. “I said I’d stay with you but that kind of power—“  
“You’ve more than proven your worth, my dear,” he whispered, taking your hands in his, mismatched eyes glistening with life. “You could be so, so great.”  
It was said with such sincerity that you would have to accept it, even if you didn’t believe it for yourself. The life and hope in him increased visibly as he kept reminding himself of his freedom…so you hated to be the one to bring up a very important point. “Jareth, who’s going to watch over the goblins? You won’t be here anymore but other creatures have to live here, and won’t the goblins cause a lot of trouble on their own?”  
“O-oh…well I suppose I could a—“ His face lit up with a mischievous joy and he grinned at you conspiratorially. “I know exactly what to do with Olivier. He will be the new king of the goblins…oh how I’ll adore checking in on that pretty face as the bags grow heavy under his eyes and his hairs gray and recede from the stress of it all.”  
“That’s…your punishment for him?”  
Jareth raised an eyebrow, cheeky smile still present on his face. “Would you like to fetch the brute? Sharur is guarding him. You won’t be alone with him.”  
\---  
“Hello, Olivier,” you said, leaning against the stone wall and looking at the chained boy. He looked defeated, humiliated, and brooding. And when he glared at you, his eyes glistened with tears. “Anything to say? Anything at all?”  
“This is cruel,” he spat.  
“Mm, no. It’s reasonable,” you said, not ready to unchain him yet. Sharur’s shadow loomed behind you, giving you comfort. “You don’t even feel a twinge of guilt? For befriending me just to betray me, for trying to use my body for just your personal gain…you feel nothing at all?”  
“No!” But you could hear the remorse in his voice and see it in his eyes which now spilled over. “Of course I don’t, why would I. I was trying to use you from the very beginning, that’s all it was. Only the weak let feelings for some…girl get into their hearts.”  
“All right, well. I am not ‘some girl,’” you said firmly, lifting your chin. “I am a queen and soon to be an empress. I am the woman who defeated you. And right now I am the bringer of your destiny.”  
His eyes widened in fear as you unshackled him. “You’re gonna kill me?”  
“Kill you? That would be far too merciful. No, you’re being promoted to king.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“The Goblin King,” you said simply, watching his face go from confusion to hope to realization to resignation in the short distance it took you to reach Sharur. And while Jareth welcomed the new king with mocking, over-the-top excitement, you stole the little prince off to the side.  
“Are you okay, Rachel?”  
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?” The child honestly did look happy, with a contentment that came from within. You recognized it as wonder.  
“Well, a lot happened today,” you said, suddenly feeling the weight of it all in the form of exhaustion. “And we’re gonna leave the castle now. You’re gonna see your mommy and daddy.”  
“That’s okay,” she said. “I want to see them. I don’t care if mommy ignores me anymore. I know how to do imagination!”  
“Good, that’s great.” You smiled, genuinely filled with happiness at that statement. “You’re not gonna miss the goblins too much?”  
“They told me a trick to summon them when I want,” she replied. “Especially ‘cause I’m their prince.”  
“All right! Let’s get out of here,” Jareth cheered, a swagger in his step as he waved his arms with a flourish. Suddenly the three of you were surrounded in a cloud of silvery smoke and glitter and in a moment you, Jareth, and Rachel were all in the girl’s bedroom, the clock showing barely five minutes from when you had left.  
You watched as Rachel’s smile faded, her eyes looking around at the cleanliness and order of her bedroom. “I miss the castle…”  
“This is your castle now, dear prince,” said Jareth, kneeling before her. “I’ve got something for you.” He produced a crystal ball out of the air, dancing it on his fingers. Without transition it became a small silver coronet, which he placed upon Rachel’s head. You knelt before the prince and she giggled, climbing onto her bed with a yawn.  
“Do you think it’s time for bed, your grace?” you asked. With a sleepy nod she removed the crown, and you excused yourself and Jareth so she could get dressed for bed. “So…now that you’re free. What’re you going to do?”  
“What are we going to do,” he corrected, trapping your hands to his chest in his gloved fingers. “Well. I thought perhaps we could try Neverland, but then I’ve had enough of children, to be quite honest. Then I thought, why not Underland? It is a bit of a trick, getting to the right looking glass, but—“  
You stopped listening, just watching him babble on. Was this the real him? The freed him, you supposed. Bright eyes and bright hair, a slight purr in his tone when he wanted to get your attention. Never in your life had you met someone with a smile that actually sparkled—  
Your life.  
Oh.  
You had a life.  
You had a life, here, in this world. You were getting paid to babysit this child. You had to go home, you had responsibilities… “Jareth, stop…please.”  
“What? What is it, darling?”  
Your hands slid out from underneath his. “I can’t…I can’t go with you. I want to, I want to so badly, but I have…I have friends and family here. I’m so sorry…I don’t want to leave you. I meant it when I said that.”  
“O-oh.” It took a bit of the wind out of his sails. “Don’t worry, I believe you…and perhaps we can still make it work, hm? I’ll visit you. And sometimes you can come visit me. And one day, when you no longer have responsibilities or if you just want to run away…”  
“You’d be that patient?”  
“Yes,” he said. “Because we’ve been through too much together for me to just…leave you.”  
You didn’t know why that brought tears to your eyes but it did. And Jareth took your face in his hands, taking his time to allow you a chance to back out before he kissed you, softly, sweetly. And as chaste as the kiss was, it lit a fire inside of you. “Mnh, Jareth…”  
“I can hear your gross kissing,” shouted Rachel.  
“I’m sorry, Prince Rachel,” said Jareth, wrapping his arms around you. “I will take my leave now.”  
“No, you can’t leave me just yet,” you said, pulling him down by the front of his shirt and pressing your lips to his ear. “Take me into that dream. That dream of you, and me, and the bed…and the nightgown. Take me.”  
“You’re…sure?”  
“Yes, now,” you said, even as the cloud of shimmering fog appeared around you once more. Suddenly you felt yourself fall backward onto the bed, your borrowed clothing having transformed into a silky white nightgown with sleeves and a bow around the center.  
Jareth hovered over you, guiding a warm hand gently down your side. His eyes were wide, vulnerable as they looked down at your face, his lips parted. “You love me.”  
You nodded. “I love you, Jareth. And I’m going to love you and you’re going to love me right back, and we’ll love each other just as much and more every time we see each other.”  
“Yes,” he whispered, nodding eagerly as he leaned down to kiss behind your ear. “Yes, we will. Because we can,” he spoke more to himself than you, leaving hot and sweet kisses down your neck and shoulders. “Because you set me free.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOA HOLD UP  
> check it out it's finally here
> 
> I said I would finish it if it killed me, and it damn near killed me. I'm so sorry if it was a huge let-down, but I kept the promise that I would finish it. Definitely not by any of the dates I promised, but I finished it. I'm free.
> 
> This has been long-awaited for you guys and myself and I'm sorry it took so long. I'm so, so sorry. But I mean, I had to finish it before I start on the next multi-chapter fic I promised I'd never write...
> 
> I kind of have to. A certain Hansome prince won't leave me the hell alone and well, I might as well take you all down with me...


End file.
